5a.m. for the fourth day in a row
ruby red filigree in my eyes glows
sleepless fissures reflect in the window glass
and
I ride this train again
and I
still feel
nothing

6p.m. for the fifth night in a row
snuffer of light continues on his show
sleepless pursuit demands another dosage
and
I ride this train again
Focused
I feel
Nothing

12 o'clock noon for the tenth day in hand
lunchtime finds me at an old street side stand
hypnotized, eating, still entranced by a man
and
I scan his dossier
and I
still feel
nothing

2a.m. neon tracers over dance
undulating bodies keep up to task
sleeplessly bound for fate encounters of chance
So
I stand in rain again
Lonely
I feel
Hopeless

Would waking correct me
I'd kneel down, delighted!
Fall softly to sleep
under these streetlights.
Would my call permit me
I'd retreat in belief
that all will be well!
Under these blinking white streetlights,
under the cosmos
but my work commits me
to wakeful burden, to half-light alley-
ways in Hell

we're such slaves to neon signs
silent buzzing 7-11's at 2 a.m.
dirtier inside, these nights are
a sort of yellow tint, variation;
high. But the avenues are not
grey graffiti anymore, the rocks
come alive, the city never sleeps
and the streets are all knowing
creatures that take the heat, take
the feet, throb and glide, glide
scuff, panel, catch the curb
the streets are the only ones
who love our
shadows.