Ahead, broken lines
form larger gaps—so dream
from place to place
Ahead, broken lines
form larger gaps—so dream
from place to place
The forgotten sun
reflected in melting ice—
she’s smiling again
A radio voice
creeps through a wall to tell you
you’re never alone
This snow is a sheet
on grandmother’s couch, rumpled
by a wayward ghost
After each scene
each actor shoots another so
just his voice remains
Then another thought—
one, stop cutting my hair and
two, live in a cave
Do those shoe elves do
anything else—maybe just
the morning coffee?
What hasn’t been done
remains undone—trickling still,
a leak in the roof
All time lapse objects
wait—quivering as shadows
spin around to watch
Beside the front door,
a visiting army’s cast-off
boots and shoes