Fifth Hour
New pigments appear and
new shades contrive themselves
surf coming in my retinas
like a thief grabbing his loot
lonesome dove airplanes a thought
when indifference
of bored God strews
black soil to the south
yellow breeze east
white snowdrift to the north
red fire onto western
colors to drape the winds
while afternoon forgets
its place then color bands
loop and intermingle
pigment molecules stir the last shades
of the spectrum into pale
and gray emerging
with new dogmas and ever-newer
absolutions absurd and
frivolous petty and ironic
proportioning the
indifference of a creator
who put his whims before the
needs of nature At last
nightingale’s song appeals
to my sensitive ears and curiosity
while lilac blooms answer
by the gray pigment of pain
shrugging its shoulders and hanging by
the beard of an unwashed monk
announcing in all seriousness:
who cares?
Libros Libertad 