Out from the people I slipped
intending to think my way
through colored concrete squares
of pink and wine.
Hundreds within footsteps hunched
and clicked or watched the slick surface of the
screen flicker images, as I do now,
so then, I walked unseen
holding my mind aloft like a light.
There is no condescension in this movement
amongst the dead who are not dead,
but stealing their songs.
"Forgetfullness" says the ancient King,
"And I am going the way of the world."
But as I walked to the beat of the silence,
feet meeting concrete slabs in soft-soled soliloquy,
I came upon a place missed by mistake -
but for their sake, I will allow for the chance of
A breathing space, formed by four misdrawn corners,
the blank box left ajar:
and the world's song, full and wild,
rich and wet, was winnowing up into suburban sky
like a series of glittering fish.