afternoon comes and the wires cross
the year i flayed
the eye, with
the settled stare

come acred, light on 10 by 10 000
hue of diamonds in vision, point by
point

the through of yellow
to the blackened chill of
seeing little people sleep in
dirt and grow fish from the bones
where they knew the fish grew on.

 have lived a year,
islands like demon
have thrown clots into
vision

of fire, or heavens
cycling

one star till it throws up,
bruises the night,
barnacled on a boat by the chop of the wave
it seldom seems
vague as when the sun
beams

lavender, or embers; light sparks
on
paper urban, angles
slivered inside more shapes

we could not want to see.