that
slip away before it's noticed
an
hour of machine noise from
the
construction site across the avenue
the
wild irrepressible waves
of
red-gold maples whisking in the wind
the
lives of the innocent and gentle
gunned
down on a shabbat morning
the
waking of television in a political season
built
on slander and innuendo
a
motorcycle crash from the hollow
of
a mountain road of fracking rigs
the
passages of allen ginsberg's sunflower
sutra
i
reach for this like any desperate soul
to
mourn and renew without an audience
is
to cry like a human being
---
e b bortz
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