right here on this edge, irreproachably, tumbling
with hope that these feeble wings will hold
where you cannot catch, where volcanic ash,
is not dead skin in breathing air, my glass
is more than full, someone saving me may
dull an everspark shadow of luminocity in
text.

you bittersweet angel, how you carry
your pout, bring me a stem of red
wine, bring me your eyes, let's start
a tundra snowstorm, let's bring alms
hold up our arms and make mandalas
in the sky...