Draft 2 - Going Ghost

[alonso ramoran]

Going Ghost


Awake. Engines whir outside.
Vermilion strobes the room.
Darkness heavy with the bulk of night.

Almost a year spent reciting a script
to strangers, sitting in the same space
where I sleep, staring out the window
at a hollow building
across an empty parking lot. Outside,
crows share with their murder
whatever they discover for collation.
I don't notice my own building
has been empty too,
until another living person
divulges the sacred knowledge. By then,
the body will remember how to see

that the world is forever divulging.
Right now it is already dark.
I observe the bed cannot be made.
On the balcony I smoke. 
This hour so much of the world
becomes shadows and reflections:
lights left on by construction,
neighboring windows of empty rooms.
Everything is shadowed by a genocide.
Is there time to do the laundry.
Can I water the dying bonsai.
Can dust collect another day.

Draft 1 - Going Ghost

Awake. Engines whir outside.
Red lights strobe into the room.
The dark is heavy with the bulk of night.

Almost a year spent reciting a script
to strangers, sitting in the same space
where I sleep, staring out the window
at a hollow building
across an empty parking lot. Crows outside
communicate discovered repasts
with fellows of their murder.
I do not notice my own building
has been empty too,
until another living person
imparts the sacred knowledge. By then
the world will have always been imparting

when the body remembers how to see.
Right now it is already dark. I observe
the bed cannot be made. This hour
so much of the world
becomes shadows and reflections:
lights left on by construction,
neighboring windows of empty rooms.
On the balcony I sip cool coffee and smoke.
Everything is shadowed by a genocide.
Is there time to do the laundry.
Can I water the rotting bonsai.
Can dust collect another day.