I’m here for the burst of rains that score trails across

the silences, ‘til my bowels give out or some more

spiritual need intercedes, flowering my insides: heels

on the street, the memory of her skin; any minute


I expect a vision pressed against the glass, looking in.

I’m in the mood to conjure up, everything; cracks

against the sky, lightning strikes; strive to understand,

like the first man to rise from the protozoan slime.


All things can tempt me from my bliss – colours, for instance;

the spectred trees, hands to the sky, on the other side

of the rainbow; temporal worlds, apparitions like stone

peripherals, half real; love, politics…Anything



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