the vagabond
drifter
the vagabond
condemned
to stay?

i wander
i ponder
and thus wander
i felt nothing
so i try to feel

the city
oh
my eyes, marbled and glassy
the lights
the windows
the city
my head, happy

but on a clear day,
you can see forever
and i cannot see three feet
where have the trees gone
impervious
mi madre
ma mere
my mother
my earth
my feet are refused her
refused dew born grass on bare feet
where are the other deer
there are no animals here
blood of my blood
nowhere
none near

so with revision
and contemplation
and unsure, premature opinion-making
i rephrase:
i am not the vagabond?
i am the nomad