lily gillespie morton: a new york poem -- i am the ghost because he is the poet

a new york poem
-- i am the ghost because he is the poet

it is a cliché but would i document time in the phase of a verse
rain swept new york
and on a dark and lonely night
what stark cast storm pressed all inside

he is wept in the rain
he is sound in remorse
something followed moments forth
once time is found alone
he has found himself at home
and it is there in a white room
this is written in review

of the light cast
very dry is comfort

in the rain cloaked swept new york
and in the rain there are painted clouds
his vision paints the clouds
as tears released poetic structure
such a darkness in that water

what seems beyond him is inside
what his vision could obtain
something timed when found alone
his moment calling for my ghost

when he slept here
this one pressed
to a mattress
held the surface
and in his dreams i have lived
i unfold some pictures when i see this
his light thought sparked as phrases
music echoes of his bliss

it is a shame but would i calculate mine
in a cage i observe
work kept new york

the hours lost to process time
no dreams resound wherefore deadlines

he is lost in this way
and conditioned to perform
forced of output forth
then attending to request
in this office day contrast

and it is there in a closed room
the office so much like a tomb
where the work shifts

very harsh
such effort

and the rain cloaked wept new york
and in this place he has painted clouds
grey the prison crowds
what could obscure the complex color
sad release within this structure

what is of him
what is inside
what is vision in as cage
what time is found alone
these moments calling for my ghost

he is kept there
this one wept
counting numbers
over papers
he holds his desk
no sound then... none
something has gone lost
this is all wrong

there within such office context
within the structure of twelve hours
remote was the dream he began
what would this
could this
could this hold him
he is kept here
this one stepped

where the concrete crowds the scenery
and he traversed the subways
clustered hallways where he searched