The First Pavement Sight

His hat raising
high the russian roof beams

with a rented piano in scanty
keeps,

though a heavy latch
cannot know a rim.

If we define the boundary
as the place from which we

begin our presencing it seems
a stretching of each gorged

morning, or that uncertain light
trying on the yellow stairwell.

A man stands strumming the corpse
clock to brim, brim, brim.