mercurial eyeless pollen
fights the rain’s green thumb
exercises the demon to your right
faster longer lasting night lights
ore of the tree fuel
make artists of us all
for fifteen minutes of absolute
weeping in the gutters
gnashing of teeth
grist for the mill
the running feet of a caretaker
hand dragging the bedpan
deadpan are we there yet
yes
no one is in the tunnel this afternoon
if we go through we can hold hands
cold spirits unseen and
sit on the park bench beneath the fruit tree kissing
under a cloud haloed moon
breath smelling of
all that fermented fruit at our feet
wasted on the ground
haunting the olfactory branches
wife in the garage cleaning out the old tools
making room for new artifice
new songs crackling on the radio
shafts of sunlight
gloria oh gloria there you are
we were just talking about you
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