Down this corridor there are
a multitude of the people.
Not a sound between them.
is the only thing we can think
Down the spiral staircase and people
are all eyes.
They fascinate me.
Each and every one an epic.
Homer would have a field day,
if life didn't write itself.
If this sort of euphemistic euphoria
can be created by something so simple,
then war is the world's wry smile.