Words from Shelley

John Yau

For Blinky Palermo


Of yellow and black and hectic red
Of a trumpet scattering ashes and sparks

Of vapors sifted through solid atmosphere
Of ocean’s foliage and rings of dead leaves

Of clouds congregating in a vast sepulcher
Of hours’ weight chained to crystalline tumult

Of a pumice island overgrown with moss
Of pestilence stricken stars and steep sky

Of a blue surface enflamed with an airy surge
Of fierce maenads, black vim and green dirge