04-09 (The Shed Poem)


The smoke sheds
Backed up against
A shard of light
The cigarette traces
In the projector’s path
It is pulling across
The edge of my reality
Gray amoebas dance
Against white clouds
The future ferries
Never settling down
Billowing Arab silk
Captured as I exhale
In league with the sun
Making moments shine
I exist suspended
In a solution
I don’t understand
My course plotted
In sacred geometries
Outside the grid
I hide from the world.