In the fluctuating highlights of a vagrant park, br Falling in with ghosts- I am so ashamed- br I have runaway and I have nothing else to do. br The sky is upside down, according to the way its br Fingers run through the trees, as if through a br Tall woman’s hair; br And I am very close to where my mothered berthed br Me, but she has gone and I grow weak: br I don’t have anything to sell, having spent my last br Fireworks just for glee. I want to plagiarize- br I’ll be accused of it anyways, listening to the little br Children’s echoes who swept little-footed through here br All day; it is very hard to perceive how the world is br Slanting, or to choose from which angle for to grieve. br Her tires are crackling on their way home, and soon br She’ll slip into the restive suits of her work- those br Families like dun hives beside the rivers and the creaks; br And I have no business being here for the world is br Perpetually on the move, being encouraged through the br Shadows like birds through the seasons. Swinging, br I can see my toes almost approach the sky, but the night br Is becoming cold, and it is warm delusion to think that br I can ever make it from here.