BENIGN NIGHT

A tumored moon caressing the
shoulders of the city showing veins of
dreams in any language making
the coolness and blue of the night
surround all people wishing to be

At night we hide in the quietness
of contrast twisting to free itself from
time and place blending texture of the sky.
Plastic Pyramids hang at the doorway
Creativity and color waiting for the day

Closer to the nothingness where
warmth and coolness collide to
make life and death connected by
the heat, quietly disfiguring the air with

an oily mist of transparency