the plume

been bumblebee illustrated
next to the plus sign of moon
on the short-lived crinkle of water
ephemeral fragility of moon in the water
this shadow, not reified
rather “bezant” &
a solid shadow
a smoke trail entailing 8 color bodies
a blue light, sometimes green
taking night sky to brightness while stars recede
in this shadow of thee the ole Blue
earthlings come up with pictograms
the sounds of signs & swirls
rebus & “moon milk” in the cavern of water
289 light bulbs or 8 bodies of water
to cite a “starry night”
night flames in painting, shades within a view
according to representation undue
not sounds of signs alone
a speak, audible
elsewhere, not here … not here… not at home
a quick hand of speed
facing the street
area of spine-spine-goatskin
swan feather’s potential, small
dark & white
high stress facing tattoo
a read
a read, a rebus while dance breaks
when it hits the window pane
venerable moonlight
a wave & a wink
this transformed sea goddess, a nymph
a leap into TH sea & an offering of veil to
whatever sings the song of the brush:
come to us salutation of shadow
muting the glow of haze
we know:
a plume can quiver in the air
like a spider’s thread
in a


pattern for prescient females …
some dashing gentlemen cut her up via scalpel
& the next medical examiner couldn’t even find the
scar of her c-section
i guess they were in a dance fever
black swan event
dear Ulrike, outlier

lay leash mat strand

i followed a ray, a girl called nymphaea
to get stuck in this lost train station
i can’t even reimburse the beggar
offering me defaced food
there are so many ravens in my pocket
parasitic jaegers
—Martina Gertrude Siebert