There

Day Twenty-Two (late): Writing a riff on Arthur Sze's Here.

There eyes water in front of a screen.
There the morning light arrives too early.
There a flock - no, a pack - a pack of birds sounds angrily.
There a great distance.
There a need for a new bridge, something healthy and
        safely suspended above the fray.
There a great fire.
There something else too hot, drowning.
There something dying, emptying into an ocean.
There an open wound.
There a promise.
There a series of broken bones.
There retribution, justification yet unclear.
There a man who has yet to find his way, and yet he
        searches in the dark.
There the final hour.
There the clock that keeps it.
There its dead batteries.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
The Staves, Pay Us No Mind