Preaching to a streetlight

by Samuel Derrick Rosen

You are no executioner,
you're a sentinel in rain,
where I now reside,
delivering manifestos,

sermons in the haze
of an asphyxiated night,
where idealistic insects
raise their heads and hiss,

lovers see themselves
pioneers of alien territories.
I am a sucker
for axioms of baselessness,

half-encrypted messages,
eternally distant traffic,
the holiest of non-entities
in the process of becoming.