Things with Gravity

The void between words.
In Manhattan-morning light the grace of cantilever cranes.
While I descend into the subway, ordinary faces on the slo-mo escalator of people ascending beside me from subterranean trains into light.
A man imagining himself a lake.
Into the valley the fog.
Those mathematical moments of Bach evoking inner terror.
Deep red.
 
A . . . . Z