A lesson: in the Indigotham I wear a tagelmust
to protect against the shadow dust
for unlike Gotham with its mirrors and leers
in the Indigotham it is always queerer
to spy a man with an uncovered face.
the Indigotham of which I speak is not the Shadow
City, nor an Emerald City, or a certain Wonderland,
but every Gotham, you must understand,
has its Indigotham, just as every glow, Farben or no,
surely has its indiglow. And how do I know?
One summer I painted supernova in the nook
that held my bed, and then wrote a book
of fragments with titles like “hunting the indigo
bunting“ and lines like “Sun spine scolio-
sis these vertebra aglow.”
The sun stole
into my room then and stroked the wall scroll's
Buddha pear belly.
This was before I knew
of the Indigotham, so the sun said “True
the things you write about the subway, bus,
and park, but you haven't got a clue, plus
you claimed I hopped the turnstile and rode
unticketed, which wo'n't do.”
So Sun bestowed
a simple code: “For every Gotham you do write,
you must write its Indigotham.”
I said and set to work.
Now the sun's my newest besty
who daily likes to text me about the etsy
store he's opened where I bought my tagelmust
for, to quote the sun, “the cloaked ones are the only ones to trust.”
Author Discusses Poems