*

as curved on an
abstract composition
.
i was stepping on thoughts
where i was born, wasn’t Texas
where i grew up, wasn’t Italy
where waters run beside
and skins laid against
soft and sunlight
.
i received
as I drove a visual road
it was before it happened

i can’t pinpoint smoky actions

slowed in time i don’t
currently reside

i moved and
waited
.
it’s frequently
family meetings missing
when inspired I don’t
belong but to the streets
across night figures
the sky my eyes
manipulating
inventing
.
regions
places
homes
.
drawing
point to point
in the inky blue
from light to light
a language
.
a cartography
.

.