the still A.M.

drawing cities out of fog into light, building our own gates (golden & light) we are racing up and down ways & means, cracked streets and cracking fears/ firing our own escapes from fire escapes, floor after floor & my eyes are rising to the risen sun (flowers in sills bloom into your eyes & face & hands, bouquets to carry me home)/ criss-crossing telephone wires connect house to house with crackling thoughts and ferry all these dreams to you and back in the still A.M.