, , ,

you’re an old man with

ostrich coloured eyes, flavours

of the reconstruction

bleed into your sight.  we

arrive in africa at

the dawn of the

day of venus.  she smiles on

the horizon and the peacocks

fly into the orient.  you follow them

and you become young again, youth found

in lexicography, youth found

in sunlight, avian

beams of cocoa butter.