792 Readings


     Sweet, the vibrations filtered upward, rung

through mental, street level poured irregularly, located what was

heard at a higher limit, words dusting their sources

     the noise sketched across an irradiated field of color,

remainders, rusting, only its bright fountain flutes & a change in

     temperature, pockets of air turned, a place for sleeping, an

enclosure filled with newspaper and magazines.

Posted 09/20/09
from "Below, A Slow Ascent"
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