All the dry cracked earth
Summer at its apex
rolls away
gathering the customary leaves
in warm colours
that contain
the dying heat.
*
Outside, greens turn to yellow
& there are black birds flying,
screaming for late summer,
screaming to leave.
*
You were a shock of red &
porcelain
w/bright blue,
blush & black.
You were grabbing at my arm
among the cans of fizzy wine.
*
When you came close
I wanted your proximity
& the grace to know
the things that are & are not
in the intricate ruins
of our souls.
Snuff Waxy Commander
Bittersweet amusements
of the floating world
all gathered & loitering
at the edges of perception
then drifting off again
into the primeval moisture.
I shall cheer myself up
with some footwear in C. F. Stead’s
Snuff Waxy Commander.
The other night
a low orange moon
hung as big as a beachball
over the city,
glowering.
If sometimes I would like to
see you around–
If sometimes I would like to not
know where to put
myself–
I want to know
what it is about you that
flickers & blinks
like pedal-powered bicycle lights
in the city streets
at night
all coated
in gingery moonlight.