The Passerby

 A cold God

in porcelain sky

in an empty city, you know it not.

In the first millenial light

in the wake of eternal darkness

in the gloom without animal or human

the first emptiness was burst

and the first spark like an anvil flew

like stars on the dirty sidewalk in the first

beaten down windy winter day.

I was there when the swans landed

in the lake when the gulls flocked

to the sea

leaving the breath chasing 

the empty blue sky

The too long life with discussions 

of death & freedom

while swimming in the ionic soup

of a self inflicted aquarium

or maybe it was built in the watery world

without guilt,

where blood runs dry

in the mauseoleum of a mind,

while a c-major chord thumbs its finger 

at the downbeat of its life

what could we have done better than that?