2:30 AM (again)

July 5, 2010
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The tree outside my window looks plastic against

black sky, full black tonight, no
orange or grey, no

The me inside my window looks like
just one eye, eyebrow, wisps of hair, no
full body shot, no

Boredom sets in.

I don’t want to move

have the mountain come to me
I can be a prophet too

Wake me up-
every time plastic tree
hits window hits me
it feels like you’re here
[though I’m not all there]

It feels like reflection fades, ear by
mouth by
starry-eyed wonder

Vision: roof, ground
and sometimes I feel like


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