Once inside the mist gathers
investigating the singular, its velvet passing
in this neck of sun some blossom mourns
I’ve known hopes crushed, still the depth of margins murmurs
what I cannot say thickens like approaching sleep
but a wall runs along my mind
the firm ring of memory
a wreath of saviors
If the present moment
has already happened, this excerpt tunnels
image of white saxophones playing taps
a blindfold caves in
some city, bleached and perfect
pause breathe think
My eyes fill with tears
I’m sensitive as an old typewriter
families bark in minivans
chopping down the shadows
I rooted for the ants I read about technology
the carnage just sits there from tomorrows news and
Columbus
deserves a massive parking ticket
when will someone notice me
for being so allusive
the source of this "wisdom"
The denouement was
pages of strange velocities
tell them that
maintaining leaves me
certain that words have claws.
