Saturday, September 17, 2016


a new full moon
washes the earth
with a thin mauve slip

riding out the hours
in her permeable gaze
riding out the days

the chug-a-lug
of an air condition
moistens the moist brow

loosening ice-packs
swollen with fever

her mute call
above the metropolis
urging all to bedlam

coolly shafting
the forsaken us
in ecstasy of exit