so much depends upon open space...
old oaks shade lovers, drunks, and dreamers
matching hands, upping mute cygneture.
lonely- lonely, born to be lonely
scribbling swan songs in frozen liquid trace
drip- drips, filling public space
in edible pearls of wisdom from the mind lake.
lost, never to fully render reabsorbed brilliance,
fallen leaves crunch crisply under barefeet
anticipating the run from enclosure to enclosure.
stretching tears before i die, come white,
come white- comely white upon the wall
nod twice little chin ups. scribbling public space,
the giver ghost inside hides in petals of wet paint.
so much depends upon social space and common passage...
old oaks shade buskers, bums, and lovers
tossing gratuities, upping mute cygneture.
surrounded by consumption, indecency, and urination
arms stand open in this freedom of panorama,
proof before i die in black and white upon the wall.
chalk graffiti feelings to wash away in the rains.
so much depends upon squares, parks, and beaches...
old oaks shade fountains, facades, and follies
droning steady on the neck of dancers in swan paint,
the wedge becomes a bevy. play the zugzwang,
gaming the cob gamers in the public sphere;
but the replica gamester never plays the move expected.
contemplating how to blaze in your martyred path...
my supreme swan sings in humanities mossy cenotaph!
