The light grows old so elegantly, Its needing a cane is a style. Sky the blue of apology. Pigeons on the fire escape, Dim-witted, obvious. It’s May now, as far as possible From all elections. No one is running. Even children Walk as if through waist-high water.
After 'Sleep' by James Schuyler
After 'Sleep' by James Schuyler
After 'Sleep' by James Schuyler
The light grows old so elegantly, Its needing a cane is a style. Sky the blue of apology. Pigeons on the fire escape, Dim-witted, obvious. It’s May now, as far as possible From all elections. No one is running. Even children Walk as if through waist-high water.