The Fourth Walk
Among the ruined are the ruins. Rules even skies can wreck in shreds,
a rest of something caught in forms. A rent, we walked along an edge
of the city and thus of a continent (having found ourselves once again
in Vancouver) and of a sea. Intent on what we want. We wanted. We
thought a lot about the thought almost. An accident that aims. A sunlight
ends against a curve of glass. It didn’t match. We walked again; we left
the sunlight cut from hands. We’ve become gothic without even thinking
how contested be the scape, now erased, and now the fear, the ambient
ambivalent of can we please not be all effaced. Without even thinking (we
forgot the broken factory, the broken orchard, and the broken ocean in
precisely that order, I, who wasn’t counting, thought only of the tower,
cut against the sky and of the itinerant and their tremendous patience
in the face of us.
