Nowhere, Particularly

I fall asleep to the
familiar sound
I know this place
this land,
is my land,
this land is our land,
and the grass- grows for us to simply lay
and watch
that rainbow descending
it–comes from a cloud
we see it under the moon

- we don’t ask questions.
time and irrelevancy are\hand in hand

i walk this perfect street
begging the scent
of a flower
i remember by name
the edge rough
the core a location
we fought to remember-

the alley way is a marching band
these abandoned arm chairs
a refuge
from
a fight against
blindness-

this is our/ hearts
this is our/

the sleeping bird
makes some
movement
and i don’t
ask
but simply
chirp
under this moon
with him,

this is our/hearts
this is our/

green grass-
beneath us.