All This Fleeting Whiteness
by Greer Fabregas
and
could devotion exist in the city streets? I’m
watching white-robed priests at the crosswalk, stark against
the trampled backdrop of mundane industry. The people
breathe a thousand tiny ghosts into this cold season and hear
Orion calling faintly over the streetlamps; I’m finding
holiness to put stock in.
by Greer Fabregas
and
could devotion exist in the city streets? I’m
watching white-robed priests at the crosswalk, stark against
the trampled backdrop of mundane industry. The people
breathe a thousand tiny ghosts into this cold season and hear
Orion calling faintly over the streetlamps; I’m finding
holiness to put stock in.