they say fell, but
flew we
in the descending dark.
It is not euphoric.
Not fear, nor
a valour unrestrained,
But something
like all that

When vapour yields
to vessels’ unalterable flow
and women unfold shawls
for their children
And paints
peel off the houses,
and onto

the damp concrete below;
sail along
with the wandering waves
wherever, wherever...

To makeshift dens
of sick cats
and rats
To creeks and cracks
where old dusts lay silent

Held our spirits
firmly by the wrists
That of moon-licked purity, we held
and another
a dusky chaos.
Of trees restless in winds
restless

Of trees whispering
in winds quiet
My, we held so many!
One, a childish joy
one then, its innocent weep
So many—
Fires we held
and fish all lively
swirling within

This spirit fluttered,
then those
in the glass-coated silvery
of our gaze

When knelt the streams
towards their fall
and fell, fell—
(oh, but did they)
we soared on
wherever, wherever...

So frenzied we,
tongue-tied now.