55.

How will I see my path?
The stones: the small night of your command.
The silver impossibility, the weight of your past triumph.
How will you see your intention,
obscured behind the mask of my frozen obedience.



63.

When the tavern closed, I made my way down the long alley,
surprised to hear so many voices:
the tinkle of giggle, the muted insistence.
Stunned, I wondered which doorway was mine.
All the doors were suddenly green.



66.

A movement between twilights.
The bough will bend.
Magnolia footsteps dodge a famished Norwegian moon.
The animals have already eaten.
Tell me where this road will end.