Who
rules?
Our life--color-beleagued, number-beset.
The clock
wastes time with the comet,
the knights
are anglers,
names
cover frauds with gold-leaf,
the hooded jewelweed
numbers the dots in the stone.
Pain as a snail's shadow.
I hear it's not getting later at all.
Here Bogus and Boring, back in the saddle,
set the pace.
Instead of you, there a halogen lamps.
Instead of our homes, light-traps,
terminus-temples.
Diaphonous, black,
the juggler's pennant
is at its
lowest point.
The hard-won Umlaut in the unword:
your light reflected: tunnel-shield
for a local
shade of thoughts.