In the street, my dreams show up
cleanless, more alert to trouble
such as the blush of rages
peeling an extemporised allusion
to make you feel; at home
simple lavender attracts
accreditation as a navigator
through the boundless hours, thin
myocardial walls, contract, sign
in to inhabitation, outreach,
broadcast of a wasteland.
There's a flurry if we walk
in mackerel skies, thunder
scowls, interested, should this
turn into more than a turn
of primaries, flood sepia,
play about, a concerto
of retrenchment, even joy?
Intersect the rhythm of detention;
spy the transposition unalloyed.