Little fleck of wonder.

The sun yawned

And opened up a train

Outpouring

Like a tongue of motion

Licking through the dusty mist and leaves

The leaves

I looked up and down came autumn

Cold as the sun in a rusty puddle

Like a child’s forgotten bicycle chain

Dissolving

Into orange jelly

With a sprig of dandelion mint

In the chopping rain

‘til only unportrayable

Unassailable memories

Erupt like blisters

In between the stiff links and there

Remain

As latent invocations

Of heavenly happenings

Unfolding like origami unicorns

To contemplate

And dream upon

When the train has licked the rusty sparks

From her dusty lips

And lollopped into the night

A receding trail of pomegranate purple stop lights

Trailing off*** into a future to be-gone to

Where gaiety clinks like camel bells

Where frailty leaks from a champagne glass

Which cracked and sank

In the light of the past

The cycle of the same

The coming of the rain

The triumph of the mind

The boarding of the train

Relegated to the background

As a fleck of golden petal

Expresses her delightning and thunder

In the unbridled cloud worn wonder

Of an innocent child.

**** like a goblins bloody comet

Indelibly bequeathed because the sun

Has melted like an ice lolly

The leaves have died and fallen

Wreathed in sheets of ice like toffee apples

Brittle sweet our little life

The cold devotion

Mist in motion

Breath of God or molten surf

The fairy tale is rounded with a potion

Of unquenchable sleep.

Written between autumn 2011 and spring 2012 – on the electrichka from Xhimki to Moscow.