For the Reader Seeking Amusement in Poetry Poem by peter cooley

Calm that distinguishes the face of Christ
when Rembrandt sets his brush to light that flame—
today I'll try to find you in strangers,
no easy task unless you're in myself.

Calm—I turn the word around in my palm.
I stretch the letters out to reach like sand,
a beach where I will try to tan my body gold.

I see I'm making Peter into light,
the old transfiguration of my life
an alchemy I'm still practicing daily.

I really don't care what you think of Christ,
You who pick up this poem to be amused.
Maybe you think he's Tutankhamen.
You think I've made him the sun god—I can.
but I won't. He's light behind the light.

I've written this poem while I've shaved and showered.
Now I'm dressing myself in Rembrandt's lines,
lies which I couldn't jamb into the frame.

They're ordinary, brown and gray. They'll do—