Love and Blossom, poems published by Lisa Zaran

There is nothing to understand.
We lash through our days
and sleep through our nights.
It's as if we are a person
of another person.

Light grows continually dim.
The moon starts up and stops
down again. Expectations
whither like lost complaints.
Even starlight fizzles.

The grease in the pan
turns to lard. Money passes
through mechanical hands.
The universe wages war
against our subconscious.

You in your dream-like state
picture roses blooming along
Clancy Avenue. A soft bird,
your heart sits in its cage,
one eye on the seed stick,

the other on the door.

You are the expoding view
through the ash of evening
a drink of spring on
a cold winters day.

I go out of myself thinking
of you. How even now
in this tyranny of sunlight,
parrot tulips in bloom,
the scent of orange blossoms

caught on the breath
of every breeze, exhuberance
in all the actual things,
(I can't put my trust in them)
there is you, a complete man

worth more loving than any blossom.