Hold

it strikes me particular,
_your silent eyes captive cycles,
neptune and saturn's claws
_catching traces irridescent--
green to blue sketching light,
_the emerald wings breathing,
the cut and stitch locked in hum
_just so that the ice melts and
the light scatters in all directions
_like butter flies in august heat.

Black Narcissus will have to wait...

it centers on the wastes and sociological truths that tear everything apart...

not going to be easy, but it starts a new collection, for sure.