utter me a dawn absolutely imperfect
like the sharp stab of lovers fingers
to cut me a river of light tears
enameled on the neat hills. organized
heaps of mumbles a sun crumb in the nook
of eyeless creeping sleepless nights. bloodshot
beauty veiny clovers sprawling on the hillocks
basking savagely under a solar sheet of becoming
day.
            it
was in    a    way     likethis that
shone a babe of screaming yellow
over the static silence of morning
   cleaving the vibrating stillness in a scorch of