on our way towards darkness we look
and see and poetize and move forward.
from every corner come rich offerings.
corners are our darkness hiding cricket
and mountains softly sitting on horizon
while sky clouds drift across mountain.
corners are chair legs sitting by old men
who are corners sitting over old chairs.
the legs are old corners of mind spaces.
a poet’s corner comes back to darkness
a howl from old corner ,a chair with legs
a leg hanging in the howl’s dark corner.
from every corner come rich offerings
a mute chair leg hanging by an old light,
a balcony corner for wet clothes to dry.
(remembering John Ashbery poem “Two scenes” -“We see us as we truly behave/From every corner comes a distinctive offering“)