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