The sky’s inscrutable
turning all colours
before my very eyes
    and back
to grey, turning itself
          to black
under the evening’s

So, it’s been said.
So we’ve got to
say it all again
  but with our words
and especially because
what comes out of our
structuring logics
   has the keys
      -  desires to eat us  -

before we’ve recorded
all the ways light hits
cloud travelling at speed
   out over the sea
and your face to me
         does things
everyone knows    but
      but but    oh  -
             oh, the details.

The details bend my fingers
   into pohutukawa
   blossom arrangements
just when I’m wondering
how the world might

It’s miraculous
     again, again