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To Stephen Mead's previous piece

Lightness Of

Being-----
Mostly the moments,
Vivid, here, vivid
Mist:
The greyness of Prague,
Its upheaval still subliminal-----
One pine yellow bench floating
In black lake, swans nearby,
Impressions-----
Wasn't that the bench,
Years back, where you,
I first saw, except
Then, green behind-----
Intense wet lawns &
Your head, jet ebony, your
Face, stark, shimmer rising
From the frame?

Lightness, lightness, I'd learn
That dance, make movements
Photos, swirl sensuous yet clean.
Perhaps I'd be someone who could
Overlook wedding rings, your other
Loves & float as though in a mirror,
Swim as if in cognac & still
Taste the skin's good meaning.

That might have been satisfying,
That, a lighter pact, But I remained of earth

& wars, crackdowns, marches unbearably
Intervened

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