September 1984

There is a barrier

in front of me

(vertical stripes

on a field of tan)

stopping all

       the carpet

               rushing to its base

       the world

               crashing without

       the light

               bursting with life

nothing breaks in

But wait!

there is a flaw

a leak

the world comes crashing

through

where I can see the sky

and dream

and soar

on silent wings

to distant ‘scapes

and times

ringing of the phone

(my anchor

to my now)

cuts it off

all

except the leak

wherein there is hope

Sitting at my desk at Erie

where, leaning far to the right,

it was just possible to look

out through the window of one of

the conference rooms.