Office in a Small City (Edward Hopper) from issue 56
Even as it’s blank,
it’s open, the tail-end
of my life. Above
rooftops with the blue-
edged sky framing sooty-eave
and airvent, I can feel I am
about to do something
without a pen at last.
No one is in the windows
although I keep looking
like a pigeon, or a suicide
on his ledge,
toward the rest of the city
that isn’t air, that cannot
but break my fall.