on the rooftop of a church
in the grey noon sky
White fluorescent glare
and a high sad soaring voice—train station singer
That man driving by
loves the idea of himselfsmoking a cigar
*
My breathing and these
three crossed black wires in the sky—
all I know right now
“The word hibiscus
sounds like a snake that’s yawning”
she said while she stretched
Prisms of branches
crisscrossing in the canyon—a silence supreme
*
gazes up shyly, blushing—
cold morning garden
Up from the subway—
a cloud of birds flickering
in a blooming sky
Bright antenna arm
on the rooftop of a house,
silver in the sun
.
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