We some times think of a vertical life whose
Richness is built upon our horizontal space
While we keep moving from space to space.
Like, for instance, on a highway’s river bank,
Where animal creatures were seen crossing
A river bed and formed part of our richness.
We look into then space, now in a computer.
Our memory added richness to the buffalos.
Our night’s dreams added a filigree to them.
Another time buffalos were little black dots
On our train’s eyes , so richly built on sound,
A clackety of a bridge rising from river bed
And we look down train’s ruckus in window
And brown sand flashes with the buffalo dots
Replaced by sand trucks part of our richness.
Our train has moved from horizontal space.
But the train and the bufflaos and the trucks
Lie stacked in filtered light in vertical space.