#262 - mist rhythm of a mask in glasses

 

20.ix.20

262

mist rhythm of a mask in glasses

 

all my life wondered if it would come

now the fog loom

 

not enough to beard yourself

stick lips

block sun

mill the grist

 

to be in the between

 

stretch idle

or to die for

 

try not to adjust spectacles

 

sometimes close the eyes

go blind

let day conduct

 

a harbour breath

through time

and stumble

 

come cataclysm

spark my ire

on cloud stairs up

 

to seasons passed

in the pandemic year

 

it’s midst of which

won’t see much

ask

what’s of moment now (?)