Solid as fish shimmer
leaping from the sky
to regain its ground,
its Rock River,
its Seine.
This blue
this morning is mere garments
de mes mémoires faibles.
It is glass cracking inward
indifferent to the downwashing yellow.
It doesn’t think
I am weaker,
I am being overtaken.
I am elemental.
I am the shard of New Mexico
sky above the chimney rock.
Es un casco del cielo de New Mexico sobre un butte.
The blue that Is.
Here’s a plate of foreign sky
caught, honored, and released.
The blue belongs. The blue must fly.
Bleu, blew, azul.
