From my balcony
each letter in the word "complexity"
drops like fine china
and in its pieces
is a new undiscovered landscape.
In book stores
under the cover of night
tiny men ready their tiny erasers
but come to find
when they open up those dictionaries
the word already dissolving.
From the tops of mountains
it lingers only briefly.
On the river swollen with spring
the word has never existed.
In other places it has turned
simply chocolate.
And in the front of houses
the word has been replaced by single stone
that only a few can lift, even fewer can carry
and only two can love.
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