VII

I’m told of visions worked-in, over and over
each vision curves along exquisite surfaces, arriving in parallax
four-second-long glances proceed with shallow coil,
as dark city skies become hazed in low-hung light-pollution
my return here began a steady digging at these clouds
tell me how things were
when energy transferred from the natural world to thick 19th-century hands
long before engines propelled us through most of our day
visions are not shallow forms,
they are but some recognizable truth to our most inner worlds