Why all library windows
barred at this awkward angle
that if one sits at the table
the world looks ugly broken?
Trees are stumps rising from the river
Sky, with buildings cut in half
Is a tooth-old jaw wide open.
No matter how one looks,
There is no relief from that broken-ness
A bird from top left corner
bravely dives across that wooden frame,
But when it re-appears bottom right,
it's merely falling, as if hurt.
Maybe someone knows
Libraries can house only shards of knowledge
to stab eager eyes, slow them down.
Maybe someone thinks
Fragmentation is an everywhere fact of life
Grappled nowhere better than in the library window
No, I do not expect to see until the end of the road (what fun would it be?)
Yet no, I cannot have it cut by a cement block
and weird stretches of wired poles
jutting parallel to the river.
Please, at least let
my eyes freely travel this landscape beauty
with my mind
as I sit and read.