I saw him walk down the sidewalk
and lived then for a moment
in a murder mystery where I
held the only clue. In blue.
History wants all, was
everywhere. That’s why
the world’s such a mess.
Yesterday was a repetition of today.
Today repeats tomorrow. No,
because the temperature is the same
is not the same.
The page is left dry and the pressure
of every real story is just the framework for the real story.
Which I tell you now.
A world in which this matters.
Action sinks or swims, proclivity tends toward
disarray. Delayed
startle response. The ingenuous path leads
here. Slowish in/ex-halation. Repeat
to failure. Wish
on the fallen star. Inscrutable? Aha.
Darkness rivals intensity. You fail to mention
this vagueness, ever new. But you keep
walking. The mystery ends
as you enter the building,
