A Poem in the Before Choice Disturbs collection


Is there a domed sky that stretches all around your spinning?
Earth circle frame and neon orange pink horizon, nighttime
At odds with insect swarms,
As the constellations form?

Sounds like icy fine heaven.

I know a boxed sky.
Buildings with rippled abdomens overpowering,
Strongarming sunlight in a violet
Redirect off their mirrored struts.

And think, "No sun today."

But, gracing just right
Among money's cathedrals
The sky takes on that bang blue hue,
Found in prospectus filtered photos.

Looking up past these offices of brokers.
There is this austere square horizon.
It's this glowering towered sky
That is the most insolate thing,

Next to a heartbeat.