Aug 262011
The sun, scintillating cadaver, 
Refusing blue, or mauve, or sincerer purple 
For the great step he was to make that day 
Entirely out of himself and into the world 
Where dull mauves congeal, purples espouse darkly, 
And blues irresolutely go blank, 
Unpacked his scalding instruments in the dark 
Listening to the machinery of crickets, grown tired, 
The imperceptible brrr 
Of cold discomfort that enmeshed their foils 
And, tired himself, threw the rude cash of light 
In the moon's urinal. 

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