Twilight

 

An idea of reality removes from you that which we think
my Death friend,
                          deaf friend,
                                            last friend –
                                                                dear

 

How even hatred lacks its distancing morals –
more natural than unnatural
less so than supernatural cold afternoon
            starlings out of whack
                        flying the day’s explosions

 

One of those almost virtual worlds
digital fermenting lactating –
A singer cries a crier wails
            to you and see:
                                    evening lacks color (reminds us)

 

Now we enter night, night-time absorbing now
holding hands embarrassed by our shadows’ thin heads.