by Gideon Burton
A liquid in the liquid, flow on flow
on gossamer, the dark and cooling milk
in circling syllables of winding silk,
the current's currency and what it knows
of dissolution, hot and fainting snow
of disaffections, loose and layered silt,
a ribboned helix, smoke and softened guilt,
a distillation of the planet's glow
along meridians and waning primes,
the transpositions sifted in the slowed
precessions, dimly thickly wet.
The liquid's liquid, moistening the time
in lapping paradoxes crudely mowed
in patterns now repeating past regret.
Photo: flickr - Horrgakx