holy eyed

Love like empty
Solemn street corners,
Where the entire
World's heart pulses
And the dream
Is condensed
And the past
Buried deep enough
For the soil
Of these new days
To fertilize,
Love like the
Shutter speed
Of your
Holy eyed imagination,
A love like ours.

Like this

The rich are hanging over head
By expensive ties
As I listen to
Silver Apples
Riding the subway
Through rat America,
Rocked quietly
In the head-phoned
Inner-space
Of Springtime,
In the midst
Of odorsome
Up-skirt
New York.

Everyday a
History of
Slow burned
Eternity
Writing itself,
A forever-time
Of lived in
Expanses.

There is nothing like this.