pro re nata

swollen days
brusque with a tear
the dampness
stilled

the ice hungry
for the lick of wind
the tip of midnights
surmise rushing

cold fronts
and slush
pressed fonts
ticket reciept
mandalas
swirling in the
slow swallow
by the grate
gaurdians

dream mistresses
in vague dresses
and delusional
tresses

the stars are sleeping
where is this
notion
pacing

raindrops startle
fingersmeared
cigarette case

on a glass topped
table three minutes
past midnight