Gwynne Garfinkle


falls away

it is difficult to assess what
a building may become

the rain that eats our cities
the damaging blue light

the failed glass slab
woke early

Tuesday morning
to camouflage the most

disturbing damage
a building may become

the milkiness of
retouched blank spaces

economic imp
earthquake history

& Monday night

my head still rests
on pillow

a cloud of glass
we all were babies once

stealing from the dead
& living

between two uncertainties

& completeness
the wheel

turned, sparks