How would I render the black-sky one word? Blue
in all its complexity, brevity, casual mistake, bad manners
waving at a gate, at least, at least look at the tone more deeply. I heard
the ceiling talking alone in an empty Trafalgar square,
the dust of the world burning around us on a cage of heaven- immutable
atomic moment, we breathe the smog-hemmed air, look at the leaves clogging
our gutter, listen to neighbors who never speak to each other
asking hey how are you, good, good. Nod soberly into oblivion
nod because we can look up with majesty and say:
here I am, surrounded by breath.
Shane Chase 