There was one thing

                All the glorious streets rose up like gold headstones

                The shoppers glowed                     the lots afloat in street fire

                I sat in warm fire                              the fire escape

                Orange flapped

                Like a monarch on a pin

How clear the sign and scent became!

Swallowtail! Purusa!* I asked if you are there,

And shrub, stem and all, bud in the blossom, I saw your face!

I took a secretive step – clap!

A gold cloud like a gold breath rushed out of sight,

The style of the breeze: green, purple, and white,

Spring and might and silent inhibition –

I said

Let our conscience be your guide:

Hey! Stop! Can’t you see the trap?

First they give you metaphors,

Painted Ladies, Swallowtails,

The lotus that climbed up right out of the mud –

But then it’s ragweed, thistle, parking-lot, and ditch grass,

Up and down                     everlasting.

*purusa = soul of the universe in Hinduism