Noon Sun

Too hectic to take a bow

in the warm dust;

torn by moment

as meadow.

We Saw This

We Saw This

down the damp-black streets
castled and cherried
walking away hard
hard as snow crust
signals went wrong
or died or turned
we crossed the road
beneath another day
another morning.
I stiffened with the wind.
I went home to summer,
glad of it.
Too rich, too bizare
murky morning
I turned to see how he ran;