Us, in Element

Image: From Pixabay, thanks to JDGRAPHICS63

after Joan Miró & Surrealism

Us, like Miró,
spearing any stick-in-the-brush
with a dance
that won’t be classified.
 
Rhythms and
other elements of days
fake familiarity.
 
Only the birds hang upside down
or float with ink-dipped feathers—
carousels—
in brilliant fields of blue blood.
 
We're clay forms
sculpted to pillows
by night: our faces
hieroglyphs on a vase, with stars 
dead around us,
our shards spilling into primary
yarns of dark,
 
new language.

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