what happened next – 3 notes

(I)
Suppose it really was a
sign that
was carelessly left to
float across the
marine sky

Or how for some time
and squeezed space
the birds opened up
into winged patterns and
shadows fell in
mathematically chaotic directions,

But all the while
that
I thought my toe was
printing infinity on
sand,
You read it as a very
fat numerical of 8.

(II)

All that remains of
a certain sequence of
hours, and lottery tickets
(or maybe train),
are the byte sized
memories of what could
have been the
possible outcome.

Photographs not clicked
and undeveloped as result
not framed
leave behind the negatives
of mental frames

Of what could have
been if the signs were
read.

(III)

Never wrote in the natural
order that
the alphabets must river
into being.

Instead of starting where
the index finger rested
the page after the one
proclaiming identity
and even
purpose.

My words and verses
instead seem to fill
from the backpages
of mostly empty
blue lines.