I hear...
the torse and rip of pinions,
fleshy gear lock into place,
cranum brace, un-plane, then narrow
muscle hard on deafened ears,
liquid eye vibrate to still,
face explain in strained aesthetic
mental breath,
exhale a limit; sing-song laughter, toning bells
story fields in background chatter,
voicesoft swells
of wave-then-breaker,
tangents crash into a shore,
echoes mesh in bolted member,
mental breath...
breathe out forever,
primal blues on porous whites,
placid lines peel back in tender
dark / light - dark / light.
I feel,
in violent elevations
arm discern its ligament,
heart run chorus seize its member,
mental breath...
rue on its passage,
Time stop frail on bending knees,
then Life in flashes, (hell or physics),
roll up-hill.

Between the grid-lock of 7th Avenue,
tickertape of legibles,
legends in transit,
wind the East Side
and pour onto asphalt,
like seeds beneath a livery's
weathered wheels,
sounds in a repertoire of suit, linen and denim,
form opening jitters of
industry, shopfront, merchant at their kiosk,
and mounts in procession as a heavy bass
off a monolith's cool stone
rises to a closing fifth,
beneath cerulean sky.

Downtown,
Spring on a new world,
song to a harvest.