Broken

 What is broken?

the high waterline in Florance is above my heart, a city that loves to dance on waves with lyrics by Date.

When i was young i waited until dawn for her response, 

like a Goddess with a broken tongue.

I did not want to dance then at the opportunity of dawn, 

but i have gratitude for the ruins, if only to praise the wounded angels who struggle

to define life, against the intellectual or visceral arguments of emptiness,

those whose lives are defined by trying to stand between what is and what is not,

fighting over the grammer of emptiness.

The agile crow jumps

fishes wriggle to get free

when i stop at an oil pump.