Smoke curls around my thoughts
The air is filled with things today.
With smells and the absence of smells,
Scents that wish they were something else.
Thoughts that want to be realities.
Smoke of realities cast aflame
Dreams young and old
Passing through – some just passing through.
With the diversity of a city like New York—
Some faces set in wrinkles, in time.
The burdens of their lives embraced with nothing less than anguished despair.
And there are young faces
Wide-eyed and mouthed, changing faces.
So much not known that there are blank spaces
All around them—clear windows in their eyes.
And there are women and men
With stained glass hearts-
This love and that love—through misted pathways rise
Chase each other, lose them all
To search until they can’t search
Their eyes like ghosts in timid light,
catching each other for one naked moment,
seized with fear before any new freedoms can be,
and fading back into black.
These things dance in my room.
The world is full of dreams like subway drifters,
All alike and infinitely separated
by what they think is everything—
Their hearts, their minds, their souls—
it is only
Copyright 1998. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Grant Gannon