* * *

[aptsvet]

the wind comes down disheveling the lake
the outward edge of the loop whose western shore
i forced myself to suspect but was unsure of
when dwelling closer to the opposite sky
facing the east with its haunted horizon

the loop which is the loom weaves up a storm
of tortured steel within whose distant mind
we coexist as hazard brings together
loose strands of disparate time which sometimes are
spliced by the el-train when it hits a stitch
sparks showering down and the west i force
myself to face is where they keep the wind
when not in use the head is where the brain
billows and flaps a platypus tree in bloom

the lady of the lake is gone her mirror
sporting a crack is now the sky itself
from where the miniature parachutes keep flowing
with a tiny platypus attached to each
like the toy mascot of an alien airline