Was it I who wondered Sipping on a concrete straw Waiting through the renegade Pondering the diamond before me It was made of paper
Defer through me Subvert the Zipf distribution It fades as the cicadas in the leaves The starry nights close in like curtains covering the sun
The sky a theatrical production The structure effacing complexity One on hand conflation, projection, fuerza One the other, subversion What is a hand
Black dog wanders through the meadow Sing me an odor of the breeze Trolleys carve out ravines in their wake The past has with it this mystique, this ambiguity to understand is to circumambulate