all that's left

there are a month of pictures and a poem from a small series i scrawled in a forgotten notebook nearly sixth months ago. my life, august-september 2012.























Denver
A seasoned smile—the first i’d seen in weeks
(it could have been ever),
and eyes, and the eyes spoke
(silent mouth)
‘no verbs
(but mine, of course)—
first nouns
(with adjectives, if well chosen).’
The eyes spoke!
(silence)
A rail, and its cold steel
(footsteps)
strangers’ faces
(footsteps)
brown.
(silence)
eyes.
(silence)
awake.
(silence)
A seasoned smile—first overlooked
(i saw just eyes).
Awake!