At the Fixed & Free Reading
The yellow of morning, whiskey.
The yellow of evening, gin.
Jaundice, the yellow eye,
a pontoon liver, cheek and chin—
A man signals his direst need,
a yellow flag in a yellow breeze.
The yellow of urine, of marigolds,
flowers of the dead.
The rain-soaked cliffs turn
the river, first yellow, then red.
A yellow sky, to complement
the mountains, purple as Lent.
The silhouette of a rider, heading west
toward that great horizon.
A yellow moon on an
always receding ocean:
How can it not come back again?
As if on stilts, he walks
on toothpick legs, a bird,
within sight of alligators.
A dispassionate clockwork waits
to record the inevitable yellow end.