He steps outside, wind
across face, morning
frost gathers at his boots,
dreams of worlds far away.
His shadow trails, moves
toward the western sun,
travels a hero’s run
in Times Square , escape the cold
in a room with an Indian
traveler who speaks of an empty life.
The bus rolls over
the Mississippi
The Arch, frozen in time,
Divides memory into pieces.
He faces the sky.
A deep breath.
Looks back—
footprints,
strange fearful journey,
fossilized.
Abandon the shadow
For the other coast.
*
Eyes closed.
Stuck in midstream
canal walls loom.
inside and over
dark caves echo
more darkness, slip
on wet rocks, spill
out from the black,
a crimson light
like blood.
He crawls toward it.
Found these not dated but based on the subject matter I
would have to date them 1993.
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