...

[[ I hear it mousing around at night ]]
.
........in pursuit of nakedness
[when in silence it dares to think]
out of a smuggler’s window, into the streets
a peeled back curtain from window

now I have softened my crime against man
now I am sepia, defused, the pane


an Ukranian Village florist will sell
daffodils with her skin-- tragic daffodils

[but a gentle weed is far from perfect]
imagine the solitude felt in those hands

............................imagine
.....exposing wing-clipped birds
...................of drama;
...now

fingers to do the screeching
..............shall we dance?

the tango is foreign in these parts--
............highly dramatic

what rust-burnt colors
are imaginable in her reflection?

--a chain of blue-black illusionists
[rather twitchy and salt of speech]
--a brown-black cicada
spins mystic wayang in Jakarta

autumn’s tymbals’ rubbed-off clamor
opens up an island; a sea of crackling
................................. [inside itself ]

*

I've already burnt this luminous trash
yesterday morning & beached
in its ethereal implode

[half expecting the use of shadow,
.....of quavering, of…







.....................................................]