Noctuary
The absolute reign of night lasts forever
And throbs from wet drums within lengthen its royal reign.
Constellations stud the lashes with midnight views;
Salutations from the owls’ wing-flaps welcome the
Sponge web of the womb of this hour
And the sable-garmented, freezing, old, festered
December day lives on.
Arrangements of coloured words without voice begin.
Prompted by visions of midmornings coming
In the wake of blurred moon rays,
Thoughts are patented.
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