After After



Everything sun through
when nothing right is left
i look out what used to be a window
how am i standing on a third floor
              with a tide of thick wind pouring under through
not lost, not wandering, numb & hungry
finding the 30 year old inside the 61 years of
              packaging, notes, pressure-gems, seeds
              of which 1 per cent might sprout

The rain is my dibble, my confessor, my cookbook
the sun is an alarm clock, revealing shadows
my thermostat stays one step ahead
the difference between a paved field and very large intersection
dry surfing, dry silence
even when the windows open no one tries to get in
crows checking on squirrels, possum planning tomorrows menu,
songs it never gets quiet enough to hear


dan raphael