Composition in Yellow

line by line a Ping Pong poem
illuminates a setting sun, a yellow
rising moon dream obscures
a dangling love, words papered
on walls brilliant, clear
to her, he hoped, writing about the sun
star rising over the ping pong
board, using absurd slices of bread
paddles as his fevered head swings
back and forth in the ruckus as sun
moon dance together holding on
to tales we tell ourselves
to become our life, mystical,
to eclipse all their poems
bright and shimmering
pieces flitting away.

Kent Bowker    11/2/2013

One thought on “Composition in Yellow”

  1. I’m confused with this one, but I gravitate to the word “mystical.” If we have a reverent sense of what is mystical, we probably haven’t strayed too far from the correct path.

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