eerie tinge to this sunset cold and diluted a misplaced day say six pm in mid October it was summer a chill sets in the lights go off and on in the office tower golden bands the crane’s open elevator making one last run up the construction site even from here it’s clearly not tethered
Still life with street lamp and Gingko tree– a high-ceilinged room filled with empty hours and extremes, too cold, too hot, that ancient itch. In the lusterless dark I cannot cross over to sleep– a wild thought, an unlikely doubt, a drop in the sea, so gazing out onto a vacant street I wait for the rain to start.
OPTIONAL POETRY 