A Collection of Spectacles

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It seems as though I am constantly awaiting a ship whose arrival is long past overdue. Occasionally, I am teased by the sight of something that is always too far off in the distance, something that is never quite recognizable, but that’s about all. 

This I will profess until all the air has been expelled from these lungs, emptied out willingly, slowly, and I am left choking on everything I have been too timid to hope for: Love is the most gratifying meal that I have never savored. 

Frequently, (and I admit quite often ringing a tone that is almost as constant almost as unbroken as the silent hum tulips make as they return to the surface of this green landscape) my sleep is interrupted by glistening wet dreams of 13th street.

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