Face it, nothing here will be sharper, clearer.
There’s no better brighter waiting below.
waking with the self (still)
an unanswered alarm raucous
The old men talk about Skopje at the pool where
I do my twenty. Drum-tight bellies becoming boulders.
Swim? Never, but they can’t wait to get their gear off and recline
– bronzed Aristotle and pupil – on the warm cement. Continue reading
that so tentative ticked on my roof last night
wouldn’t rouse any but a sleeper on a promise Continue reading
If I were to engineer a blind here
obscuring all of this bright summer’s day,
and thru the tiniest chink, like Vermeer
or Newton, a memory-spectrum display. Continue reading
Given there have only ever been a handful of emotions —
tho, as our eyes evolved to particular lines in the spectrum,
so our sensible hearts may be dumb to all the high-energy
bursts & low-frequency murmurings which rain on us daily —