Sustenance for Movement

The dark is fading this morning
what will it be
more grey splayed shadows
clumped on the city walks?

The sky fades secretly
I can’t ever catch the instant when
the grey blooms and gapes like mould
over the roof of the neighbouring building
but it does, sure as ever
independent of my caprices
regardless of the energies that I choose to
release on the world—
or prefer to unleash within---
fibers undone.

Today, the poem of this expiring morning
of February 2, bears witness to a breakfast
of rough bread and butter
strongest coffee
floating through, perfuming the rooms
hair undone: a savouring of what may be to
come-

How to move on the earth? Only of our
own steam, fueled by no movement
bread only
bread the train that will provoke us
slowly forward or slowly somewhere else
from here.