In Toronto

Another night of falling
asleep, humming over

outside noises, over
imagined attributes

& limited replication.
Another night in restful

presses, respondents
amiss & inexplicably

mute. The pleasure
of thought interrupts

what waits outside
while reoccurring motifs

condition each stride
along what is soon to be

morning. Returning
leaves a sense of departure,

recalling the way the house
felt gloved by trees,

the world inside not much
bigger than a breath.

Of Idolatry

1. A place where the buildings are taller

2. Light in effort

3. Something to do

4. A caption

5. Bronzing the sides

6. A yard which isn’t big enough

7. Cornered faces in frame

8. You keep the memory

9. Another way of saying without wilderness

10. Something in the way

11. You make the point

12. A feeling of love

13. Fullness in immediacy

14. Where trains go up & down & stop

What the Night says to the Grass

Like the crack of dawn,
what is prematurely broken

cannot be fixed. Insides nod
off in ingenuity, heat curls

up the underside & moistens
with day. Morning is only

a matter of time. Though gradual,
change begins somewhere

even if it is believed that the dark
betrays nothing. Better to wait,

to fashion tiny monuments
in response to every footstep

that brushes along each slender
strand. Afterthoughts do not mend

but comfort & the sky can hold
as many as you can conjure.