(after Sam Francis)
Hemmed in, my eyes control the pattern.
Wide open, the sexual colors call me by name,
though I could cancel ‘sexual’ and write ‘political’
instead, thereby introducing the garish baggage
of a purged concept,
which restores a pattern similar, if not alike,
to that of the overwhelming yellow stroke blue stroke yellow
and restores too the unconditionality of the sexual
and political colors,
my enemies that love me.