a garden visitation

There’s a little bit of grandeur
in the garden under clouds

It springs from rain buds
and the contrast in flanks of washing

held in straggling lines of wear

Petals plump and pink
skin-like, as light envelopes and hallows dust

At edges of glass webs there’s form in waiting
as this sun casts its own light shadow

into an emergent zona rosa

Hurts the head I’ve travelled in
too hard, and faster than it’s built for

oh, le don de rêves that passes through
its own poem

an unlit cigarette also dreamt in the hand

Placed on a table that’s moved in the night
from wakefulness, Ashkenazy tells it

in symmetrical strokes, this thought, that thought even
without smoke, that pathfinder, its lyric turnabout

airy, forgetful, of fall it’s come from


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