It is a space and mine and yours
As it flows outward into a silence
A light bulb percolates its silence
In a lonely room and its windows
Are some holes in light darkness
A cold before- morning darkness
That has just come out of a sleep
Its ink spilled on opposing trees,
Unfinished buildings in iron rods
That pierced a soft belly of dawn.

Pigeons fluttered on a water tank.
Water makes its noises inside tank
While the pigeons make guter gu .
Now they go about twig business
For their chicks for a new season.
Your space and mine is a stream
Dried up about fluttering pigeons.
Their morning noises are drowned
In the sea of city’s daily business.

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