ON GLOOMINESS AND STREETS

I scratch the gloomy grounds

of which they said they would 

transcend tender bounds 

are to tender the fierceful mood

I scratch them with tips

and fingers, remembering droplets and dustiness

and the many ships where red from rips

became two b s in c:

black and brown's scarred skins in crustiness

I scratch their grayness

in search of trustful skies

in rising their fearfulness

in allowing my-self to self-pollinate screams and cries 

scratching gray gloominess

streets are the new skins

tip my finger in it in seeking fearlessness

the one they had when skins 

became unscratchable 

gloominess the only reachable

coldness unbearable

and scratching scarred wounds redeemable