The light outside of my apartment
casts everything orange–shadows fall,
paint ascetic stripes along lone wall.

I wonder, can we fully ever know another
person’s heart
or is it all imago–

I feel like I call out
all the time, unheard
a little, my big body
all want and swell,
my voice somehow both
loud and unseen
like the echo of a child
yelling into a river gorge
or the buzz of a dryer
in a dying laundromat–

the gleaming
halogen outside my window
gives me these lonely thoughts. 

Oh
what I’m saying is
if I could melt into the shade sometimes
and be on the other side
of everywhere, I would
be such a fan of the entire world, it’s many
corners: enhabit every pocket
of the place:
the dots on i-s, the narrow
under each Venetian blind.