National Poetry Month Day 5: Ari Banias
Here the trees appear
pasted up against the side of it
in front of hills. Partly this has to do with light partly
Wanting a perceptual shift, stare up.
Against the side
of what has no sides
here in front of some hills with no front.
What it feels to be; what you are told.
The stubborn programming.
The single palm on the horizon
a shaggy lap dog. A figurine
on a mantel
waiting to be noticed or dusted…
The highway’s curve
is a thought someone had,
and we travel the shape
of that thought.
Space junk, earth junk, human waste.
From here looks “empty” or “clean.”
It’s a matter of position.
Police helicopters, pilotless aircraft, satellites,
warplanes I don’t know the names of.
The color deepens. Try to see this as a clarification.
Pacific grating the side of the bluff
Pacific we only touch like this
A light in the distance. The idea of “the distance.”
I put my hand on your leg to assure myself
These mountains appear to divide
something green from something yellow
something brown from something browner. Something greyish with lines in it.
Multimillion-dollar homes small enough to crush under my thumb
Photograph of Ari Banias by Solmaz Sharif.