Heat Wavering

Max Parrish clouds flush with dawn
Above the dun desert cliffs.
No rain forecast, but they’re nice.

You never know with artists—
The corniest whimsy dreams
Prepare you to re-see things

You’ll meet later, and so do
The sternest experiments.
You’ve seen Rauschenberg in ripped

Remnants of subway posters,
Down to minimal colors.
It tells you the world’s not world

Until your human contacts
Shape the way you understand
Whatever you’re looking at.

The uninformed is blurry
Since if there’s one thing culture
Does it’s sharpen boundaries.

Spectacles crisp spectacles.
The clouds have softened to Coles.
It’s going to be hot, though.