Here I am, alone in my room, feeling lonely. 
Loneliness is horrible. This is an objective 
statement. Sometimes I think to objectify 

I write this for your eyes and ears and heart

If it makes your eyes sore

                                 ears weary

Sat for three days in a white room 
a tiny truck of white flowers 
was driving through the empty window

(2) photos of Anne
                        80 years old
                                          lovely, as always

They are preparing to begin again:
Problems, new pennant up the flagpole
In a predicted romance.

Silly girls your heads full of boys
There is a last sample of talk on the outer side
Your stand at last lifts to dumb evening

I give up:
I bleed I must know.
Grant me the

Then love introduces the expensive dream
Of peace into this last report on the future

Of the past, as the pen snaps

I keep circling the Triborough Bridge
Hell’s Gate Bridge always with a line of freight cars
Randall’s Island, my sister in red and gold cheerleader clothes

A man like snow in Paris beautiful machine
Riding into the stars
A world of Michaels