DECEMBER 9

Days wasting flurries and boundaries
of feeling, the layers reinforce
and construct separately, slipt
away from potential touches
and dangerous saying-ons,
going-ons and all the other
souls

left. This blearied green edge,
none else but these listening stones,
pushed drawn in circlings
looking behind and feeling
in unison.

Associational gusts ear'd,
dreams of want, wanton flights
of waxed substance too-low
tides baring marks uncleared yet
shallow,
filled with affectations sincere
and cool, tears less so,
a buoying shakes all too obscured
extempore smiles, stuttered seagulls.