This is left

A tower and no height



A Kneeling

of a young woman smoking in the crouch of a door



A Crosswalk

Painted black forgotten in the traffic


A Passion

in a yellow silk dress pulling itself up


Love Pulling

Against itself fighting for dear life

as the veil slightly opens and slightly closes, closing against itself



Oh, the race that is the time that is left and the time that divides



A Blue Sky

Like a half remembered painting

hung in a closed museum haunting, haunting itself



A Sail

moving in a port without a boat

showing the wind’s direction, direction against itself



A Berry

Crushed underfoot on a wall

littered with meaning, meaning itself



Love Pulling

So clearly the only source only reason

to be here on the edge, the edge itself


This is left

A rage erupting unexpectedly



A Scattered Hope

like a flight into a peace

lost in the giving, giving against itself



A Shade

Pulled against too bright light

before the dawn, dawn against itself



A Glove

Lying in the alley behind a park

lost or found in colors, color itself



A Sandal

on the foot of a homeless man walking

through a fog of music, music against itself




A Rock Tower

Like a beacon of stone quarried

with flint dug from the past mined, mined against itself




A Hug

held so desperately close

the blood nearly stops, stopping against itself




Love Pulling

As loyal as a dog on a leash less walk

guiding the way, the way itself

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