5:30 is expanding and contracting. Satellite nullities,
supple browns circling the haze of that star. I see codes
everywhere. Red sleeves more than solitary, encased in breath
too warm to be rain at all. The air's tiny death confronted by
its own symmetry. Blank stares at a violent sub-text, equipoise
splattered all over the mechanical glow. A brilliant cosmos
exposes its spear of pleasure tonight, and my nebula has begun to
tighten once again.