THE NEXT CORNER

I am downwind from the crossroads,

adrift on the offside a thought.

I hear the language of midnight calling

where there is no second choice.

A vine of clouds snake twist over a

blue gray sky.  Rain is far off, though

moving closer within the halves of minutes.

Here at a back stairway any door will do.

There are fields of voyages full of the invisible

until the steps of intent release.

It’s the next corner I think of.

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