At the flagging season's natural end

Unfurling from the pastel swatches

In the sky, can anything in fact suspend

Declining day with the cautious watches


Of the night, with the race

Of fading sea or spray of time

Glowing from a guileless face

Whose hands are frozen in their prime?


Can a two-dimensional gouache 

Of ticking postcards beaches

Whose penduluming oceans slosh

The dark world with their reaches


Really balance out the spinal swings

Of the jeweled summer's broken springs?


Rue de Varenne

February 18th-25th, 2005