Another Sonnet

Another anyday
Of basements and gilded smoke.
I’m part of the stay
Through constant come and go,
Like selective slow motion
Or the island between traffic—
A visual feedback commotion;
I suppose the word is “hectic.”
Longing for distance
From a city block of cement chimneys.
The pearly remains of pilfers clog each stack.
I imagine that some face up and others, down.
But skeletons have been known to dance
And a certain house tells me, “You’re going to be a great father someday.”



(I'm also back)