print previewback RALPH ANGEL
Untitled
When time settles in and I can’t wander away
and can’t not think of you as the coming one, living my life, standing by an open
window as if worn out from work or some arduous commute
When afternoon puts a blue sky and white clouds upon extraordinary buildings and
tufts of cottonwood rise up twenty-two floors
Like a lake that will not dim, or an island the color of olives, or the bright blur of a
mountain behind them
Or that the one voice that rises isn’t personal, or that car honking
Like the breeze in my shirt, from every
direction, without so much
as an evening 
From Strays by Ralph Angel. Reprinted with permissions from Foundling Press.
Untitled (Against the slope)
Untitled (the dream is crying)
Untitled (I stared at the glint)
Untitled (When time settles)