7 june

even as the doors close the odds roll up like awnings shaking out the day and drawing up the night the candlesticks fireflies surprised by constellations uniting the nations and all of their parts constituent arts and cultures like vultures too late to a sky full of bread fed by air and rite of summer is heavier than spring's the things we tell ourselves in the dark embarking on unexpected words having heard revelations we cannot unlisten with unwritten rules spooling out tickertape a great escape too late to find a slow rewind on borrowed ears with fears all-calling falling down to drown the sense of reason why can't help but try to paddle in this still unseemly stream meaning something other than words feeling drawn out a rabbit from the hat and willing it back with both stick and carrot can't help but compare it to such another station of the crosshairs the aim and fire conspiring against the careful dance of sunlit yes with unpassed tests still flapping in the breeze as trees set loose from the forest too tentative to relent to have spent more than one enchanted evening grieving for the mighthavebeen - we sink or swim in our own pools but sometimes we see the ocean and the reasons seem twice as small - i'm calling out for better questions in a bid to know whatwhy as the clouds turn tail and dive into reflections of the sky pealing ripples to dramatic effect and senseless design