Jan 29, 2009


Twenty stories up,
the math of traffic
is light-- ordinals
of worlds no longer
virginal-- the sky
awash upon the net
of sight-- a design
of far birds rises
to equal-- dark suns
rapid cast to lose
the time-- and you
return to the room
unswayed-- what is
good and wise if not
glorious-- murder
succeeds a hangnail
not love-- love is
a word of generic
currency-- the moon
is swallowed anyway.