K in P (plus one) | Kimberly Lyons


My brother and sister are busy.

We are alone in the Bodega's.

Carry maps and a compass.

The wheel is bent

yet works provisionally.

At the end of the process:

refractory shards of the truth

just standing there.

Manufacturer's utilize a cavernous

garage for their truth too.

And as I criss cross borough tracks

within intransigent afternoon precincts

I get a happy spirit.

Released from either end point,

released from personality

etheric passages