clean outa fresh allegory, it seems.
sometimes i pause en path and
wonder- did i jump ship too late?

life has become an after-hours
museum:  stop, stare and
saunter on to the next scene.

a moving statue among mummies.


ii.

the four emptied alcoves surround her.  she waits.

"the pollen grain enters invisible"

wheat stalks annotate such wind: aaahhhh, yeeeeessss.

"like body, wholly body, fluttering its empty sleeves"

awakened by candle wax, he left her.


iii.

i cant think of anything else to say.
let's just walk awhile.
holler when you spot a fox.

storm of leaves,