register the rhyme
in the shells of bells
in misprints in the mailbox
in the purple hues of swells

in the modest alternative pray
from the lips of a volunteer nun
in the habit of holy bray
a repertoire for the answering sun

the drinking satellite
the star-crossed megabyte
the seek after it’s baffled
the deep fog walls the addled night

throw the luggage in the river
and space back to the sky
we’re staying here to
melt our diamonds
turn them to an alibi

we’re self-cubed
shifting wreckers
on stale spoilt medicine
the night begins at 6:30
but who can say what happens then

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