There is no point in my wandering -
walking supposedly home at night alone,

rain splashing strange, triangular flat no-word
scenes at my feet, the man across the street

saying "It exists! It actually exists!"
in hushed curious exultant revelations

later to know

it does not matter in the least

and I am speaking of human hearts.
The Immediacy by Matt Dennison
The fog rolls: Neddal Ayad