The morning begins in clay
there's no sleep to out slumber
benign weariness, or tell where path
might create more than traffic twist
so I may avoid the steely turn
or remove rust coat in the held tumbler.
Chemical gutter in full green wrath
and storm heavy in sky amethyst
fills my way stem to stern
as a scratch of minutes muster
their sway within my thin amplitude
leaving to no time for refining day.
As if this isn't to flag a hard mood.
All to have, and need, is cloud lustre.
2.45pm 23 March 2006 Sydney