My night is the flame
and i rest between the photons,
photons, space, radiate,
exponential fraction –
flit, flicker. fly
and i,

if I ride on them
those tumbling spaces
it’s quiet-
a door down the street,
back to the flame
burning through
air,
and i
riding spaces
degrees falling
heater on,
off,
and i
between those spaces.

Flit,
flicker
fly.

Dave Barber
December 6, 2008

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