This world of concrete—viewed through many
of the same repeating windows—
seems lost; forlorn.
Walking across autumn streets
to reach beyond grasp, in vain,
at the sunset –if only I could hold it still a while.
Trains rush past; organic impulses to the city.
We, both together:
Byzantine thoughts bypass the thoughts of my fingers;
trickles down, afoot to my feet
slowly. Where and when I stop running the sky, opens:
she opens; her lustful distraction, in the open
Mountain fog parts, breaking sky into thousands;
splashing clear dawn unto earth—