Ebullient field of stars throbbing with nectar;
Startling the void,
The hum of insects rising as a voice
Searing off the thromboids
My bent chest, arrested with the weight
Of heavenly urchins Time and Scene
Wake me from their undulating chords
Explain in plainsong what it means

The air is never meant to prince
To the king, Leaden Gravity
Nor the light let loose its leather reigns
On the chariot’s calamities
Err to the night, its frozen breath
Sing over its shoulders, undertow
All gravesites crown with fresh bouquets
Everyone who will never know