a miracle is the smoothest purr
of night's frail wrists
producing hands
pronouncing digits
adeptly who flutter
with pale and sharp
colours
              coiled in
                               a
warm limpsey
wind
          that shakes the boughs
          of a long tree
          straight
          and titanic

hulking with indifferent fragility
the serious mouth of life
is
         a redlipped girl

who winks
                      at me

from nowhere

amiably staggers
with neon a street
diminutively
creased with
laughter
and the common
blood of youth
whose vague
aptitude for
lust is always

grows nothing thicker than
the tip of a thorn
in the softness of your palm
with a minute coronet
of scarlet
                     doesn't hurt

                     almost looks pretty

                     and won't stop till pressed

                                                 with a finger

won't ever a star fall
briefly with light
from where a comes a leaf
(no. not a leaf. a tree)
                                     yes, a tree

   ,
       out of its throat
       that sounds like a girl sounds
       the first time her heartbreaks
       easy
       like rain
       from her eyes

A moment perceived so clearly

A dash of neon

Against wet asphalt

Glows

Fades

I come a robin's egg blue sky
With a sun and a night
Lean, dank, and innumerably
Looms with magic
Just at the nape's of
Street lights