As I walk I seek /echoes of sounds unseen /like a kryptonite click at 2 AM/ something not there..It takes on form in wild dolls/ green spangled masks;/you can see when trying. So sure about themselves,/on fire, red alert leveraged,/ by fluted columns, turned,/ toward casual bliss./ As a stark electric spectre/ /they race past unknown platforms/in whimpers they won’t give an inch. /When I feel colder, I feel lively,/ I revere the haggard moon/it’s bathed in violet.
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Poetry in Motion 