Not that love or nature
Are any less strong an influence
Although the form is affected by technology
As well as further external abstract restrictions
To break out of this mode
To search again for deep man words
May require the creation of unknown paradigms
I can see my fingers
Little else is self evident beyond
I can hear my shirt ruffle
Yet no sounds of air conditioning
I could think of precise moments
Delve instead into the beauty of emotions
I could tell of power interruptions
Yet sell instead the rights to curious commotions
Aircraft engines are louder in the silence
Joyful conviviality is drowned out
By the absence of light or movement
The shadow-puppets loom with menace
Darkness knocks at my door
Holds herself steady by my window
In the quiet yard a candlelit conversation
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