Restless and roundabout

grew and flew and blew 

the night for light light light. 

Flakes and stacks. The making

of moves. Puns with radicality

storming at the surface

where suffocated the horizons,

screeching with tremors

seemed to threaten allowances

counting all the way up

from less to zero.

What never fades

with wait of days

the wide wide yawns

for the wanting.

Willing to fly

as if to wait is to die.

A limbo erupts  

grave and gambling

with vicissitudes

pale pale blue

and voluptuous too

that yellow at dawn

blinding me softly.

Hidden resolves,

squeezed between walls

love taking sufferance for love

is not an untruth.

But intravehicular conduction ?

As pious is to seduction

as purity is to corruption.

And rimshots are to revelry.

My pious thanks for the bedevilry.