Horse, Pipe and Red Flower

Under the reign of logic: a goblet, a red flower
with boundaries, assigned
beneath a mirror: imagination

on the verge of recovering

a book: open to a drawing
and the sum of dreamt moments
a long white stem: in the illusion of continuity

like the night, a blue floor, in parenthesis

red and yellow fringes
sleeping logicians, philosophers
and saw-blades of color: the weight of self-assurance

curved and flowered, as a detachment

an empty white bowl: I return to the waking state
but what does the manuscript say?
a phenomenon on a horse

in regal pose, a strange tendency

toward dissolution
on the fluid curve: slipping off the tongue
these lapses

begin like a piano: arisen

from the deep night
a goblet in a seashell
in a bowl: this idea of aging, patterned

like a fragrance, toward the sky

this glorious acceleration: of circles
more obscure in divinity, broken
into shards of geometry: all aberration

from a prism, what the mind loves

within, a woman's eye: a rich flow
of intelligence, a wood grain
Kill, plunder more quickly, love: the ambience

without a name

but freshly painted
methodical examination: a mirror
lapsed into measurable generations

a salient fact: undefinable, pear-shaped

in the curve of a dream, childlike
everything marvelous: a man cut in half
by the window, an encumbrance

or reticence: the page turning over

on a horse's knee, raised
to be strange: you who have written
this pipe on its side, a number

of premises and facts: nothing to smoke

the charm, explication gone awry
before we stumble: zebra stripes
dictated by an absence

peeled from a cluttered table: the disinterested

curve, a play of thought
the surface dissolution: Joan Miró
Horse, Pipe and Red Flower