And the dazzle of light upon the waters is as nothing beside the changes wrought therein, ... --Mark Strand, "The Next Time" Our chance at starting over again keeps staring up at us from the reflections in the spill-water washing its pitch-like slum over the sidewalks. And we lean or leap across its direct path which has puddled and become difficult to follow, arranging our bits of cover below the rains, cautious, sometimes at a standstill. And our world keeps deepening below its sheen, changing its meaning or rippling into the mirage of the fixed structures beside us. The very boundaries adrift in a riddle we walk on: the widow sills broken, glass shattered, searching for the answer. Barry Ballard is the author of three prize winning collections of poetry: Green Tombs to Jupiter (Snails Pace Press Poetry Prize, 2000), A Time to Reinvent (Creative Ash Press Poetry Prize) and Plowing to the End of the Road (Finishing Line Press Open Chapbook Competition, 2002). He lives in Burleson, Texas.