prep paper
         to resemble dusk, music
for a pull-your-through
         reach-and-seek

whites, blacks,
         mixed to a grey-first

into a wet,
sloping wash of manifold blues
         veined with thin red-currents
                  and a foundational pink wash

         maybe these are painted
with Coltrane bristles?

remember, revolution is
         no one color; red-eyed
sight, storing water
         and death within
intended portals
         is
         injected
& out’d,     uplifted by blue
like airfoil, stuffing
                  don’t & the honey-down

muted unheard wing-beat, the implied in-whistle, the horizontal
      haunt, the temptation to over-lap

don’t laugh, don’t call them foggy griffins
gravity pulls on
double night birds, weighing the right airy weight
for their boom-
hovering:
perfecting buoyancy within late evening densities,
real, an almost-felt dream-
feather-and-fowl, youngish,
possibly breeding, specular, skeptical comics
like language, perfect nonsense and beyond nature,
arriving to watch,
applying more well-passion than the usual muses do
and by ascending,
         levitating,
         twin blue
         love-efficient
         plumes.