The old warrior rows his canoe on an English river
Under a Roman aqueduct
On the other side an empty canoe
Floating away from a whirlpool
White stockings and black leather shoes
Jumping, an Irish dance with a long-stemmed flower
On a conveyor belt
There’s candlelight burning on the outer walls
Lighting an alleyway
A black mass of nameless soldiers
Merging
Dividing
A mirror sky shows branches bare
Shining water, a rising rush of dandelions
Something, nothing felt
A block of wood and a snail
On the edge of a workbench
It slithers over the precipice
And small white lights float up
And away
A wound heals with a long scar
The small white lights shine above
The blue storied house
With a steep roof and white shutters
As evening falls, the air thick and gray
A hunchback with a red coat and walking stick
Clasps the door knocker
He sees a white field before and above
A long scar appears
And it all fades into gray