Nightfall is crystal clear like seers’ eyes

Yours and mine are blinded by the light

And obscured by brilliant sunrise

Nocturnal nurture is the nature of my sight

Black curtains illuminate and trace outlines on my thoughts

A sobriety filter after swigging to the hilt of Mister Guinness

Finish and listen to the thundering silence of pulsing existences

Sex and television and bedside confessional religion

Out of whack in some establishments where sons are dying in Iraq

Fighting to midnight gongs and dawn songs of the Koran

Reclusive boxes wading around, reflecting or occasionally connecting with no sound

To disrupt the ceasefire into a rupture

Of relentless rounds of conversations, random intersections, empty circles and cross sections

Spat from the Sun’s muzzle

And resumed at the rooster’s roar

 

20 June 2004