Wise?

A gail of night blew softly down

The down lay waking, slowly, yawning- hidden

The caricature of night loses its chagrin

Enveloped in ideas that steep long into indigo

This dark texture has wooden shoulders,

Burning never from the toiling of its intent

To take on that rich finish born of well-oiled rubbing

And solvents- sublime.

Manzanita rouge paired with

Lace-wood’s  un-repeating intricacy

The warm hue of mixed motion exudes

The musk of Lover’s- divine.

Would be the woodworker, hard on his knees

Stop at midday for a rumble of softness?

Lunch on pillows and breasts

Peeking out, peaking up

The slow mind wanders

After eleven hours of eye-burning CM.

The post-dinner banquet of thoughts

Travel South in Winter, seeking sweets.

I am wandering everywhere tonight,

Allowing the murmur of whatever the fuck wishes to be said-

To be said.

Wise? Ancillary to my cause.