I look to you: A poem 

You live in my cuisine 

in my heart’s magazine 

My walls are stone boulders 

For you, they are tin 

I walk in wide everglades 

in my dusty suedes 

And when I look at the skies above 

your silver screen never fades 

In moments of memory 

there’s a tryst with antiquity 

In the rewriting of history  

I fill the blanks of posterity 

We have passion for dispassion 

But a fashion for ignition 

And when, in the wind, we threw caution 

it was endowed with patience 

There are prisms in mannerisms 

Rabbits in hats of habits 

For, I am your wizard, you my magician 

Miracles from this vindication 

Our soulful dreams leave 

their whiskers on my sleeve 

And they cast ominous shadows 

of relics for tomorrow