A man swings open the universe and hangs up his coat.

This arched vault of darkness.

I will take a bus through empty fields

and learn the names

of buried men.

I will learn to sing

the karaoke of the drifting bees.

See how the lightning strikes the hive

the sunflowers darken.

And once you looked at me your eyes were grey.

A silver train crossing a quiet sea.

A cage fighter in a park.

A shallow rain lake at the end of winter.

Cicadas humming

like bonsai.
See how the lightning strikes the hive

the sunflowers darken.
We passed a bonfire

I turned but then it was gone.

And then a car

the light was on they were oblivious.

You find your way between us

with your phone torch

and once you looked at me your eyes were grey.

Wolf of the forest

I have cut the eyes from the woodcutter.

I lay before you

this apple slowly falling

through deep neural orchards

eyes closed.

Your crystals spin

colours quiet on your wall.
See how the lightning strikes the hive

the sunflowers darken.
Flowers bloom on the mounds of fox dens

and the hair of a polar bear

is transparent.

In winter foxes go across the ice

scavenging for colour.

And the word for bear is wanderer.

The fur so dense

the heat

never bleeds.

The river freezes on top.

The ice runs hollow.

Like abandoned cars in city parks

the bears

waiting for spring

sleep on the dry river stones.

And once you looked at me your eyes

were grey.
See how the lightning strikes the hive

the sunflowers darken.