Quattro Poesie di Mattina

the morning creeps aching in your foot
to the beginning of another situation,
a new task, a set of masks to don.
I awoke feverish in the after-glow of night
visions and now staring down an imagined
trajectory of this day’s unfolding chaos.

Brought close, brought too close – you always
sleep when I awake, but not today, today in this
once-occurring time-bloom. Oh, to a new day as
the train’s distorted hum signals movement, the perverse
movement of passengers of whom you do not know, maybe.

In this autumnal cool stillness, even the birds cry such that
you could extract truth from their screeching howls – from
the deafening mechanical purr of an automobile as it passes
too close, obscenely close.

Move, walk, put your limping foot forward, ahead of you and
forge something grand out of this renewal of sameness, this renewal
of ever-changing semi-sameness.

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