April 2009
4 posts
(jet lagged: 5:35a)
In New York, I live nightly.
In Berlin, I wake doves.
White light seeps through curtains - which are really sheets no ones loves.
Patterns faded, years outdated.
Morning never piercing at this hour
Only gently powdering a blanket down, pillow sack.
Mazing through jagged hairs & pulled lashes.
Impatient iris weasels between cracked lids
I’m six hours ahead, but still looking...
