My corner is a soft liminal space
A diluted darkness behind a wall
A presence a temple meets stone
And man lies curled in low light.

The tree is a dry sky of shadows
Moving on a vapid summer day
When open sun tries to demolish
A temporary space of a moment
That fails to transcreate the next.

It happens when unknown man
Pulls a wheelbarrow in its space
A shadow that occurs beside me
In space demolished by moment.