I looked across and saw
sparks, streaming, exploding, the smoke rising...

Black, silver, white,
moonlight...

I felt so much like you
without the fame, the looks, the money...

Time, that thing--it is always changing
--itself, and all else, of course...

There is a river here
and I am on the wrong side, so I'm told...

I looked down from the balcony
and jewels winked up at me, flashing...

Why now the mist fills my nostrils
why there is a mint freshness in those passages...

A pencil skitters across my desk.
I'm ready for a break from studying...

My joy is astronomical
as my lawn becomes my observatory...

Under yellowed streetlights and the last vestiges...
there is little thought...

In complete solitude
I may someday stand...

I must be distracted currently, constantly
by some buzzing, numbing insect, or perhaps...