John Levy


I have been standing here



I have been standing here
for one minute for one year
for one breath in
for one lost
thought for nothing for
a wall
to lean against for darkness
with my eyes
closed for pretending
I’m ready ready for anything
for not seeing whoever sees me for
all these years on my face
in the mirrors mirrors for
wishing wishes that change and stay



If, per



if, perchance, there were
no
 
bull in no
arena
 
only the
matador
 
waving
a red
 
cape
 
for the
flourish of
 
the red
 
itself
 
and if the matador’s
 
head were
not a human’s
 
and if you were
small
 
enough
 
and could fly
 
among the petals



Colors are generous
                                        for Angella and Yuki



They salute us
& thank us
for loving them

even when we stick them
on wigs

and floors. They are entirely

present, sometimes
spirits

purr within them.



State Fair



the yellow

declarations

flower

knee
high

unconnected

to anything

he
longs

to experience



Walking through a graveyard



anywhere
 
could
be
 
in the rain, say, the rain
 
saying
 
what it
wants
 
what
 
it
is
 
and has been
 
where
you stare
 
at everything
 
passing by



Across the Aisle



I didn't, and
don't,

know her

name but

she named her
dog

Taco.



Couple



I’m in the bus and can’t hear his words, if
he is
 
talking. I can’t see either

of their mouths. I can’t
seems
 
what he may be saying, though
 
I don’t know
could also be what he says as she
 
looks away.



She isn’t looking at



her mother or grandmother or the
Giacometti or out the window. She
steps forward
like that man
enormous, still

beginning

John Levy's most recent book of poems is Silence Like Another Name (otata's bookshelf, 2019). He lives in Tucson.

 
 

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