The darkness does not represent
I cannot expect more from a city pent
near the bazaar.
People, left to guard the merchandise,
lying on their handcarts, and the breeze
to some thick and thin, transparent and translucent
Morning, almost Daniel Barenboim playing
sprawls in E-Flat Major, but the light
is not right
for an example of the morning. Nothing
or anything. The dogs stretch time,
and from the brambles
of my existence, a gust of the birds mushrooms
into the sky.
Ilustration Nick Victor