The city turns away from us
like an acquaintance
or a hardly known route
and at the end of it all: flight.

Chainlink fabric
symbols floating
above newscaster
frightened top 40
jam into the routine disrupted
by open eyes.

Something from nothing:
and the word still flits in exile
like a lost cloud.

The city turns away
like a dog abandoning
her dying master

Lines interrupt themselves,
draw half of a body,
then proceed to proclaim themselves free.

The most beautiful experience:
knowing someone's eyes
while they are contemplating art.

Light never trickles
even the ever anxious candle
careens and gushes and gallops

you are walking on fossils,
cycad leaves fallen
on artsy cartoon glass.

flat geometry of shadow:
noble lie
void's round depth.

The world is composed of gestures not facts;
Gestures running like pebbles into frozen lakes.
The envelope falls of its hinges, but clings to its contents.

Tasks checked off,
Magazine lights rowing down the coast.
The frozen lake protests the advertiser.

Angles hidden under
The never
To sever a perfect shape.