Sensed, but left unseen he moves
Like silenced shadows lost
In dusts of deepening time.
On muted trails of watered down skips,
Where frosted eyes cast glares
on nighttime’s murky shroud,
Only flutters of painless paper,
And the buzz of bullied parts
Disturb the dumbstruck night.

In the ignorance of darkness,
And unexploited wisdom,
He rides
Doteless, blameless
in untouched integrity,
Unemployed by contagions of gluttonous greed
and not yet undone by lust,
But with just hours’ promise
of promiscuity.

He holds series’ of monochrome stories
Told and untold in secondhand gray,
Yet ever ripe in furtive tendency.
He leaves them each unmarked,
sheathed in gossamer shell.
And on route of biased broadcast,
He reflects on forward bold,
But the days don’t stain his fingers
The same way they stain mine.