Friday, April 21, 2017


& the light of the world before 11
city lights & the hum of rhythm in my ears
the cold of day turned to rain & dark

in my ears the rhythm
& Spinoza
all that is fact

in the black of the hour
the barking of dogs & street lights
inhaling this smoke & breathing

the heart of me out into the world
& the beat of machines
the glimmer of lights produced & seen

by the hour that is dark
the plans that are snuffed by intoxicants
& rationale

borderline trees without green in the dark
unseen tremors of
fibrillation & networks reaching for more than

cold space & synthetic cuts in
soundtime & the shifting balance
one foot to the limb next offered

& the irises constricted in their beds across
streets and towns & pulsing water &
sleeplack want-not dreams pressing

the give-in of pearl drone
edge above tracheal spasmgive

when the borderland gleam between
articulates the passing glance & harbored kiss
who secreted the journey of

impassioned coffee &
too many touches bartered over
& spans of disagreement taken

on the bias forget & suppress
thoughts never modulated
by the lilac &

how many flowers when minutes tick & sobriety proves
trapped in a room with placed
mirrors again

the emptiness of the hour promises
day again & fact
& reason goes on as it does

No comments:

Post a Comment