Which Way

another way, and it is dusk now
so abrupt
it took the noise of plans and treatises
out, turned them all into fine dust
or microscopic filaments of
fur so
even as I am sitting
here, these wants —
great loves or dreams;
these have all been flung into
air
floating suspended
until caught
by my nose, and with
eyes watering,
I can’t
stop sneezing