From our vantage on the wall
we can see both sides. And spy
the tacit movement in the grass
of any creature from the past
skittering, even slightly. But O,
how it is frightening. The angle
of a viewer from the distance
is almost 90 degrees. Straight up
parallel to trees on either side.
Standing up as much to show our bent
as for any growing meaning. Some
-how, to us it's lent itslef dis
-couragingly. And the single
point of distance; either end is
an unbearable thing to sense
and so from it turn away.
I never have intention to discredit
the path. The strong black coffee
plays counterpoint to it, jointly
in the dark and curtained back
room. Steam rises in listing lines,
corrodes the brick on either side
and forming ceiling. And darkened
distance just belies a difference
playing on opposed ends nicely
Stretching icily, ad infinitum.
