Mirada

Stones left along the road:
Somewhere design is being rejected;

An exercise for tuning:
Allow the route and the dream in turning;

Look at me on the side of the road:
Learning to lean on my knack for division;

Instead of that sing us this:
Inventions we never imagined;

Allow me an image:
An hutia and a crocodile in absentia;

Now as I am pulled apart by sound:
Navigate this side back to mother;

This side to a planned demolition:
The remains will sign the paperwork;

In this country, touch has patterned me:
Pollution, pale answers, mind’s fire, panoply.