, , , , , , , , , ,

                still-wet paviours from the storms
                      and the
                      pass and
                      fro of
                all under the blue blue skies





blue wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”
Have wormhole: written relief to / creeping anaesthesia / through palimpsest / and crankled page
passing wormhole: and I lose sight of her into memory
sky wormhole: Infantino / district of Gotham
storm wormhole: “Darling” – poewieview #28