I dream of you
out there
somewhere
in the long lonely night
and I have picked up
the phone
over and over
and hung
it up
again
I have to be in the lonely
night too
I don’t even know
what I would say
if I made it there
to bathe in the dew
of the soiled traveler’s clothes
but there is
that pull
that broken past
and magical future
I want to abandon
like apartments
and empty paper cups
and I want to chase it
across the alley where its flung
I want to lie
between the marble chambers
of geometry
where everything
leads to one place
up
Poetry
Sinking Into The Earth
Out There
August 2009
I wonder if we pick up and put the phone back down in synchrony.