Written in New York in a morning cold from a window in a hotel room
She did not delay progress on the morning
despite us
vibrates in its tracks and its asphalt
in lead crystal blue sky in the continuous light
their eyes looking at windows in the dry
arteries of
underground vibe and tire roar
accent while stretching their trees stretches vertebrae
glass and cement
expanding the light of new day
towards just point and where grown
I look from here from insomnia
this window
/ rented room /
I discover
it a pious face of windswept tears
know awaits me with that strange mixture of love and demolition
estate with that emerald glow
with the open flesh and excess noise with that beat
rubble
suburb and with the heads and tails of her bare arms
takes me but I drink coffee slowly
me in on the nostalgia of a dream that I'm
prepare my daily ritual
and off the light without voice
say I'm coming! I'm coming!
I'm in!
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