The sun, scintillating cadaver, Refusing blue, or mauve, or sincerer purple For the great step he was to make that day 5 Entirely out of himself and into the world Where dull mauves congeal, purples espouse darkly, And blues irresolutely go blank, 10 Unpacked his scalding instruments in the dark Listening to the machinery of crickets, grown tired, The imperceptible brrr Of cold discomfort that enmeshed their foils 15 And, tired himself, threw the rude cash of light In the moon's urinal.
From the collection "Constellations in December"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.