Now imagine this.
You have all day to get somewhere
but you haven’t any goldfish…
And that makes you king of the world.
but you can’t lance the boil until
you abdicate the throne of Yarn
and bind a cat to your shadows’ pearl.
The black thing you carry in your pocket
is the eye of all Typhoons
in your lap.

Imagine opening your eyes-
and being surrounded by Thursday!
So much velvet tinkering with grey things
and gimlets… torchlit fantasies slurry forth
in an unending tide of appetites
disguised as appetites
in disguise.
Sunspots on paper plates
and taffeta medallions
all in love with blue cranes
and very little else
that you lack.

Imagine that.