America is in our cereal bowls
and on our T.V.s...
Another poem asking for the impossible.
Another night wishing you were here...
The observer and the observee are the same
but we cannot observe that at once...
some days
my thirst is so immense...
Trackers never track
until the tracking happens...
I am
a pendulum...
Beatings many,
love notes few...
Write them on the sand
Don't carve your words on the rocks...
People come and go
A cacophony of murmurs...
Shrouded in mist;
I sighed you...
Silhouettes
stare...
We were restless that
summer, tracking new...