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   s u n    o n    f a c a d e s

--- I S H   K L E I N

I believe the birds are back. Swell sparrows of hop and nestle away one day and so the world went to hell.

These things only register when missing my friends, I am a hermit I do not talk to anyone at all

except now I guess it must be necessary to say the sun hitting faces

of buildings against the alluring sky one wishes to enter. Then breeze to treed lanes undulant green as ocean

This sight wants to snuff my utterances by being the utmost for my brain today. It says, "only I say"

One walks watching it one stumbles; it is like wearing a heavy headdress and people around aren't into it

so they steer away. Unlike birds the color of dirt who wish to be nearby phenomenon.

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