Evan in New York

He stood there with jaw on concrete, amazed by what man has been able to accomplish. neck craned as if he might see the top or crisply see the point where they stopped. No such luck. the crowds brushed by pushed on by the tradition of being rushed. destinations would not be reached today. all time would stop today, and that was exactly why Evan was here. He looked for the lockers he heard of down below but it must have only been created out of convenience. How else could an untrained prophet explain the darkness that lived, oozed, eminated from this place.

Evan took the string of glass beeds from his Grandmothers collection out of his pocket. His awe, combined with the bustle, got the best of him. The beeds were nocked from his hand. they hit the floor with a clatter that only Evan found ear shattering. Having broken free they scattered, not unlike a billiard trick shot. Every sphere found a pocket secret or otherwise. Evan was unsure of how he would find the high place. Just as his heart hit bottom he felt the light hand of hope lifting him from the frantic search to reclaim even one of the beeds.

Once again he was standing but this time his eyes were focused staight ahead. the glint of his path glowing brighter in front of him.

"premi" or "oh so small cute"

weary but well
as has been at every request
subtle distraction...the door gently shuts with click and tap
I project to far so I get blinding nowness,
(I greet my crooked red friend)
funny freedom
I am bound, as I desire, but where is what the weighs the wonder.
hits at this helium heart.
shifted but always advancing upward.