The crease step-tiers into a barrage of slits
and entry. Auras arranged press into our
sequined words as I watch you fold poems
into delicate loti and a houseboat abloat
with lantern lit bodies spinning, sweating
small tilts of coloured paper.
Quip
O how slips the styptic diptych of breadth.
A flip switch kitsch strips. Fitfully.
Motives
The fractyling nocturne hangers uncertainty,
decides which skein to skate and which to sheath
bequeathing sheets and stampedes. Silesia opens;
scratch-swatching a node, a mode, a niche
of lullabies that by day stomp into a boomerang-cradle
shorn drawly. At night, unleashed, the streets creed.