several chitters and eyes come to stroke a line into
my window
and written upon it is a fear or some kind of a
fade into my abode and i rock, as i a
silent observer think no minus no plus
and it sounds yet ever so bliss--
to be adrift from afar a silent and beautiful thing
with the sky sliced by contrails
yet closer holding its own, a powerful machine free from
soon or for now to be
a cruise missile