Dead Color

I lie for a long time on my left side and my right side

And eat nothing,

          but no voice comes on the wind

And no voice drops from the cloud.

Between the grey spiders and the orange spiders,

                 no voice comes on the wind.

Later, I sit for a long time by the waters of Har,

And no face appears on the face of the deep.

Meanwhile, the heavens assemble their dark map.

The traffic begins to thin.

Aphids munch on the sweet meat of the lemon trees.

The lawn sprinklers rise and fall…

And here's a line of brown ants cleaning a possum's skull.

And here's another, come from the opposite side.

Over my head, star-pieces dip in their yellow scarves toward their black desire.

Windows, rapturous windows!