FOR A WHILE

for a while

I was cool under the stars

collected as

the atoms along

a razor's edge

listening for music I

heard no aria

no heart-drumming or

murmur of machine

Just a connecting silence which

suggested another sense

make sense

of it all

be deluded by fancy into

imagining lines, connecting them

and then argue that this

was no mere contrivance, an

artificial grid

but was always there

calling

waiting to be elicited.