one of the beautiful words
sound of the stone just where it is

whisper of the stream is too 
the city’s snoring

some would say 
tram rattle, aircon

shuffle along 
little growl, friendly face

nothing like a chorus 
the groan of up – recognition! 
stars are a seeming silence but

if there were air, they’d hum
in broad daylight, none would notice
old refrains, as in our sleep
the footpath breathing

hush of steam
stroke here, under chin
heart’s hum a little further

how much can it hold?
a sort of down in the mouth

long horse face

frog in the throat as well 
dorombol

dorombolás
there’s never the full confession

but brightens with some frequency 
we dream of elsewhere to be here 
it’s time out of mind tells out the colour
as you by me

purring now 
we each beside ourselves