Walking down into the cellar while it’s dark
out, and there are humming birds hovering
just beyond the small rectangular window.
They were watching me like
they were looking at a screen.
Maybe I was their Friday night movie?
Just a slice of life picture about a guy
skulking around his own basement
digging up the past.
Sometimes you can let go of all that , and
others it just never loosens it’s grip.
Overgrown parks with metal tables
covered in rubber sleeves to remove
the edges, become the background for
your dreams. In which of course you are
above yourself, watching yourself, and
seeing all the frayed fabric in the dark
shrouds that wrap themselves around you.
Shrouds
Teleporting Typewriter 