Written after doing RCP work at Eerie and Broad.
Honks, cars, snowed flakes
and beyond, your voice to carry
narratives from one world
to the next, gray abysses
timed to the beat of horse,
tricked over slipping stones.
Met at one street corner,
moved to dirty next, heard
solemnity in voices but could
not be stopped from greater
visions, could not compose,
but wanted, it was hard, to befriend--
chicken, portions, beards,
rough edges thickening with salt,
we lying prostrate and casual,
separate vision of the oppressed,
and me too solo, large grin a knife,
or knifed, to be hit by a slow-moving
car, to be smashed into abstraction,
to be caused but causal, lit flame.
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