In Lemon Light

I saw you in the lemon light,

within the cube city, the Dada city

bathed in lemon light,

awash in lemon light.

You were admiring the steam-powered people,

the swing-arm people.

And you saw two glittered crows

hurl against a sky white-gloved by clouds.

I spoke to you, but you made no sense.

"Two black crows," said you,

"seem no better than one,

and four no better than none."

I swear I saw you in the lemon light,

admiring the machine-like children

who chased two blue crows

into a tongue colored sky.

NOTE:  There is a convention in contemporary poetry that does not insist that a poem makes sense literally.  A poem, under this convention, might simply evoke emotions or seek to bend the language a little and create a rather musical cadence as you read.  This poem (which has been kicking around in my archives in various fashion for about twenty years) falls into that category of poetry.  I understand that not everyone will appreciate this.  This sort of poetry is generally an acquired taste. 

--Mitchell Hegman