sam I am not for here instead is what I am

4/6/06

shell
husk
wind-blown empty dust
silt on the bottom of the river. darkness
between the skylanterns hangin’ on midnight high
and the glint of noon on the water
the retina burn it leaves in your eye
and the short moment
that it takes
to forget it
as unremarkable and passing
as the leaves in the breeze