Foucault (ii)

this is the order of things—here
from the street to the sidewalk to the parking lot
to the flat roof of the grocery store
from roof-top to roof-top to the edge of the sky
and all around, the chthonic chorus of palm trees
the sun has sunk below the hills
leaving the sky back-lit
there is a time when the reeds hang over the sidewalk
with no shade between them
there is a time when I exist with the cracks
and no darkling mediator
by their spindly shadows
I said there were palms
shadow kneels, now, at the base of things
and there were still palm-trees
by its passing
I came to know the light