dew york

terrace of wonder 

on which I perch

laying eggs of candied delight 

a stones throw from the river

there I feel

pangs of past particles 

whose once gentle yearnings 

now pillage the present 

these eyes 

these knowing eyes 

feel greatness in their gaze. 

post cars

the woman 

that makes my blood boil 

is the same woman

that makes my soul soar.