4 Days in Manhattan - 7 Final Reconciliation

The first glimpse is always the most telling one.
It's the mystique of skimming perusal, like in
Eavesdropping. I am never as attentive as
When bound over to prick up my ears
Amidst the turmoil of unknown.
Otherwise, shameful enough, I'd be way too much
Caught by my multiple inner voices––the
Turmoil of known.

I was not devoid of a mood, I admit, but
This mood met its mold in Manhattan.
I can hardly figure how it would've met the lightsome.
Poor lightsome, they couldn't have earned a rumble seat here.
It is homeland for the sour.
It is homeland still, I see.
Yet simpering it might
Funnel the world's
Basic soreness
Jauntily into itself and so be.

June 21, 2008