…

settle in the dusk

with your ears still ringing

      yesterday’s fingers sweat

      clutching pheasant feathers

far below the window

lies another sky

      high above the sun

      is a secret for the ages

pages after pages

abramelin’s mages

      missus porter’s daughter

      is pimped on the dark web

mister kipling’s missus

left him for the milkman

      at the second right

      turn left again

part the wave’s functions

like the centre parting

      which is gently combed

      on the palms of your hands

scatter like the flight

of a herringbone sunset

      barking up the bark

      of a dogwood’s trunk

…