Uptick

We were sitting there, and   

I made a joke about how   

it doesn’t dovetail: time,   

one minute running out   

faster than the one in front   

it catches up to.   

That way, I said,   

there can be no waste.   

Waste is virtually eliminated.   

To come back for a few hours to   

the present subject, a painting,   

looking like it was seen,   

half turning around, slightly apprehensive,   

but it has to pay attention   

to what’s up ahead: a vision.   

Therefore poetry dissolves in   

brilliant moisture and reads us   

to us.   

A faint notion. Too many words,   

but precious.