The Shining World

had not the shining world so shone

the curtains part and day bursts in,
extravagant, colorized, and wet,
overflowing with the summer’s green,
with bougainvillea, waving palms, set
in blue that only seas produce,
with drizzle that pours in

from waves and wind,
from sun and stars to baste
a nebulous gouache
of fuchsia and jade green
on our pixeled window screen

whereas I, the supposed end
to which this conflagration
condescends
with planets, stars, and lush display,
I, a wreck in bed, a sluggish gauge

depraved by dreams, am paralyzed with age,
so who says that observation makes the sight,
when these lids can ill obey
my tired eyes to register the glaze
of this wild, intemperate morning light?

January 20th, 2014
April 12th, 2026, Kaiholu