dreamers..

VEGAS UPDATE! poetry

poetry of solitude..

TE MORNING SEEMS TO HAVE NO LIGHT TO SPARE.

FOR THESE CLOSE, SILENT, NEIGHBORING, DARK TREES.

BUT TOO MUCH BRIGHTNESS, IN LOW LYING GLARE, 

FOR MIDDLING TRUTHS, SUCH AS WHOSE PREMISES

THESE ARE, AND WHY JUST HERE, AND WHAT WE MIGHT

EXPECT TO MAKE OF A SHOP WINDOW SHELF

DISPLAYING LAST YEAR’S STYLES OF DARK AND LIGHT?

HERE AT THIS MOMENT, MORNING IS MOST ITSELF,

BEFORE THE GEOMETRIC SHADOWS, MORE

SUBSTANTIAL ALMOST THAN WHAT CASTS THEM, PALE

INTO WHATEVER LATER LIGHT WILL BE. 

WHAT HAPPENS HERE? WHAT IS THE SORT OF STORE

WHOSE WINDOWS FRAME SUCH GENERALITY?

MEANING IS UP FOR GRABS, BUT NOT FOR SALE.

**just realized the caps where on.. didnt wanna rewrite. enjoy.