time out of mind
I wasn't all there you know
me by my hands which are wings
and then spiders, clutching
and hairy a legacy
of my Black Irish grandfather
the cad who gave me this dark hair
this eager duplicitous temper
perhaps I am blaming him or you
blaming Schrödinger's box on the cat
trapped prisoner of the decaying atom
and the uncertain gas snared
by the collapsing probability wave
Cobweb flits by my face and I wonder
where I misplaced summer jasmine
scented hours speaking to the small invisible
who lived beneath the tangerine tree
leaving me behind and shining
through the night a mockingbird
singing in an achingly clear midnight
or sleepy chirps greeting the dawn.
—2/18/00