Through the moist ghosts of rain, I run for cover, then I walk out | into the rain again

In a diamond hearse, spring sunlight’s carried to your touch’s grave | Baby gestures / flutter and creep

From a daydream vampire | The shadow of my wings / touches the sleeping virgin’s face, but does not | wake her

My head broken open spills a glittering swarm of sapphire flies | The pillow so soft, the lane of sleep winding and winding…

A guttering candle, I fade into the silence, then | flame to a voice once more / Speaking and burning

Now you’ve left me, I cannot touch your lips anymore, or puzzle over | the meaning of your words, only | at night | I try to hear your laughter and doze off / to the murmur of funeral lullabies

Beethoven played on a toy xylophone | a wry glance | at spring stars

 


from the series hypergrammar (open-ended, 2012–present)

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