a window, opens
a morning’s watching
leafing beneath
a scratched
patina of sleep-
smiled sentience,
warm-
dawned in the
temperate rooms
of the already-
viewed, the repeatedly
eyed, drawn
to graph, by hand
such alacrities
of thisness in
the
picture, faded
as the
day’s
gentleness,
so gently
as not
to waken,
slumbering,
the thrown &
spoken,
all forewarned
and
tense passed, yet
your
shoulders
unhinge
while sleeping, still
&
settled, within all
the ridiculous
innocence
it takes
to
inhabit a face, it takes
this
much - to reset
the dawn
arriving
sky
after sky
as these
repeats,
as this
always-pouring
forwardness
into light
&
time, is what we drink
in, be-
tween
our habits forming, our
stony
sustains, gapped
with
mis-readings, be-
draggled
yet quilled,
dipped
in base-whites
of
blindness, the back-
pinning
of galaxies,
punch-drunk
of
bruised
wine and
spinning
wheeled,
and all
i
clutched as air
as
smiled suspensions,
as
gold-threaded want
as onward
rolling
vertigos
of un-
grounded
swell, as
currents
soared
and
roaring
as
hungers,
over-eyed
as glancing
aside,
up
side
your eye
soaked
with sky-
light
and facing
a music
cracked
open to
air-
as
vision breaks
its
wave, toward us
toward
all that doing
poured and roaring
out the harbour, out-----