IN THE ROOM I RIDE | Stephen Morse "Well, Sirrah! move back, there is scarce room to ride." -- from The Fool Errant Amy Lowell from here I cannot see the kingdom sky with my eyes the roof stops rain and light too stops outside where the cars park and birds fly tar and air grass and clouds the cheer and boo of every where and every when on this watery ball where I can run in circles circling counting bits of ten the base that speaks of being done on earth home of the brave king- dom of drive I can not see past the room the work shop of words waiting for glory to arrive for the power of old stars to end stop but theres a surge against the enjambment edging air of dark heaven luring in the light in the room I ride