The will to act is seen
dispersed in stacks of things,
the inside feelings creeping out
in action paused,
a battle awaits the vanquishing.

In sleep I venture once again
east of third and north of south,
where houses to fix can still be found,
though rough streets ride the peripheries.

Inside my rooms aside the shore.
Some boxes packed.
Do I stay?
Stop.

But this is what I do,
though chances are few to find.
A neat and tidy room spars, emerges and recedes.