Front Range Sunset

At the end of the workday, down in the valley
clacking applause of cottonwood trees
sails golden leaves to carpet concrete
I exit the building as
October winds blow the air to pieces
from soup to streamers that unwrap me
from paragraphs, red pen corrections
rounds of sentences blowing away
Now comes the sunset in biblical rays
I stand still as a windless day
pink on the inside, staring wide-eyed
a dazzling razzmatazz flows from sky-spokes
spreads like broken rose-red eggs
resplendent as a crimson peacock
unfolding slow on the floor of the western sky.

Sparkling iridescent as an abalone shell
orange and mango over the peaks
spine of the continent lit
polychrome tangerine fire dancers
spit-take a wild spew of volcano
smoothed by celestial trowels to these amazing rays
I pass through the maze to a trap door
releasing me suddenly
from fluorescent lit rooms of buzzing computers
into Paradise.

Golden sheaves leave lakes of light
lit from beneath commuters’ gaze
shot into my synapses
I float in a coat of fire over high glacier valleys
rejoice to swashbuckling angel trumpets
ancient snow mirrors
flamboyant lilies, orange vast vistas
More and more levels
of lava-like lakes arise
emblazoned, glaze the skies
as that sun falls
fast as my heart
tied to a tawdry glory story
of such requited lust

Clouds pile up their cotton beds
barns full of bolls expand till the walls blow
and cotton shakes fuchsia from papaya
tearing rays of navy blue and hot pink strips
Jungle cat sky, this
gaudy dye penetrates my mind
What I’ve called glory swings up
one vivid notch
but that sky just keeps cracking apart
Goddess opens her vermillion mouth
and her shout detonates the west
I yell too
to the rush-hour traffic
as molten iron paints the sky, another shine

Look up!  Stop your cars.  Get out!
This is the rapture— y’all don’t have to go anywhere!
It’s peaking, I’m peeking
through migrating ribbons of geese
and the sins of rush hour
How the fuck can anyone drive through this?
I’m on my knees, softly howling into the glitter
gleam of a marching band
streaming north to south till
too soon it’s over
before I can pull my fingers off
The pull chain clicks
between my reaching hand and
the snow-capped ranges
mountains sink fast into the shushing dark
chill of night catching the colors
galactic boil sends hot pink steam
to a cerulean hood that rises
vermillion whoopee cloaked
and shouting slower now
sky orgasm starts to tone it down

One heart-shaped hole pokes through
flat calm baby blue
Krishna-face of love shines last as
streetlights come on.
Magic pours back
down the sides of its holy jar
large reminder of who’s in charge
elementals drizzle down the swizzle stick of time
to rest in featherbeds
till the next sizzle set
Golden line of clicking cottonwoods
dry exhausted fade with the day 
hung like Inanna for her erotic beauty
the sins of her power
this fading hour
dark Venus hung in Dark’s closet for now

For now I do tai chi to the falling gray
tai chi on the side of rush-hour highway
one last devotion
to thrumming skin-slid memory
blazing hot still in my thrilled, spent heart
my burnt fingers & cooling mind
to trickster pleasure
astonished chill of a falling day
to sunset
Nothing left to do now
but bow out
try to rewind all this bliss
unraveled round my feet
in a cindered glowing heap
recall where I parked the car
so long ago this

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