There Is No Sky -Bruce Moody

[Larry Robinson]

There Is No Sky

No such thing.

How can I say so?

Look up.
behind that mask of blue,
blue’s masks of white and grey,
lies a thing night’s black erases quite where
the transparency of invisibility occurs.

How do I know?

I don’t.
Knowledge is a flimsy security.
I just read on
until one reads to the end and arrives
to transparency equanimous and sheer.

Why should these poems crowd the air right now?
The wind of death will scatter them
where leaves decompose
to be beans and asters, weeds
and tantalizing deserts.

I’m sorry if these words leave you sad or unconvinced.
You do not read one of the The Immortals —
only the tiler of paving stones leading to a doorway —
leading through a garden he still finds pleasant —
do you? — toward an archway
before a door.

	 -Bruce Moody
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