Wrinkles, pips and litter

Windows stream rivers

of light; get up and smooth out
the wrinkles of dreams.

 

On the table a

fruit’s flayed open but still not
fit to eat and throw

 

the pips and debris

out of the window to float
on public light-streams.

 

Pips and peel show more;

the litter says more than the
flesh of stuff consumed.










Still somewhat taken up with brevity and east.  Also a bit of health scare this week, nothing of any importance as it turns out, annoying to be under house arrest and doesn't make for restful writing either.