caught inside agenda and pressured by hysteria
terror catches at throat,
mimicked by an echoed note.

smoked-out-in-columns-of-purgatory,
why is that?

Noise pierced the air and sat at rail-road crossings,
walking back to old fashion--
country inns -out of- a rainstorm's wind.

wandered the point to follow,
the hollow that swallows
tomorrow

and

i saw myself be-musing
way stations
and caught a ticket,
-back-

to apathy.