Your sleep from change | eternity | So, the ladder of a day, a long, long climb | Raw violets in your eyes | impossible to grasp, not by | the New York unit, the | aerial unit | The night, hidden within | that greater, that | endless night | still has its oceans | though habit makes a | teaspoon chime | on a teacup’s side, and the dream | within | a typhoon threatening… | Alone, I | wrap you in a cloth of thought | these pockets of a warmer clime | on iced coasts | palms and lemon trees isle | green into the snow and grey | basalt of a sterner time | And when I watch you | close your eyes | hear the slow beat of the waves | latched into our rapid bloods | we have these hours to | change the stars | tilt them or convince them | otherwise | They have their role | Gods have their | stillness, we | our fickle living | one game, one rule, but then | a broken rule, another game, always | the fragile violence | the seasons’ call | To all, we bring divergence | take an ignorance to the wall | in this | evade or deserve | high summer’s blame | the latest | final word | We know no difference | Death is | exactly the same

from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)