Occasionally I break my heart on daylight–do you know how that goes?
A wishful half-mind desire for my parents, my personal ghosts, old friends
Gone, comes like a minnow’s glint and so easily, it was just a walk
Under trees and then, blue bottle there’s my mother, blue as always
Still wrapped in her life–she too seeing colors, nursing grievances
As she did in life. Blue as a cricket’s back, blue as old bindings
In the library of lonely childhood. Daylight, what have you done?
Planet of the Blind 