night fumbles

lift the  veil of light
i can’t to grip principle 
of prime after me

enlarge the subject
zoom out to nonentity
seize infinity

to the joy of life
i cling until I let go
neither far nor near

hyacinth is scent
winter memory of spring
sybil in itself 

i sing past the pall
of my indeterminate
intermittency 

in love with my words
i’m trying to free myself
but to no avail

i’m available 
to myself in tiny sounds
mote/planet of dust

mind fill mind empty
colander or bowl or both
heart is left bereft

very same old things
appear as the very new
commas comets