not forgetting the revolution drummed by a calculating spire

architect. light wind encasing fields of trees
and an otherwise intestinal haze. locomotion
remembered? blue spheres
denuding a soft unbreakable change,
rectangles that dangle like pieces of sky
in paintings the weather forecaster could not see.
a pink blouse. a lawyer forgiving a night of red wine
and photographs to be used in a munificent frame.
slab of concrete descending,
foreboding "center of the universe"
designed by something, (someone?),
whose technique would never yield a singular
grey smokestack. nameplate similar to words
devouring the small print on white cards,
resolution of form over content, a seagull
chewing a red and white flag beyond the green-tiered dome,
the flapped angle of remorse, or justice to a boy now hollowed
by the summers' holiday begun. a parade of leaves
felled in the gardens' suburban home. a place of unpalaced
gold. a whisper of old men walking a boulevard once held,
embraced, in the discerning upheaval of masculinity. crisp
wind twisting again, becoming erect,
grave in the mouth of gravity, teetering
amid soft flesh as though a cushion invented
in one's long intervallic sleep.