Every part of daylight makes
Us sing. The peaks gleam.
Light shine on bus
Windows. The inwardness
Of night at bay. The day
Is moving
Away in light’s
Dark laughter. Sung in lost
Forms, the gleam
Moving past
In all that midnight ends. In
The travesty of thinking without form
Which daylight readily
Supplies
While midnight bends       & slips
Away—
& Sung is lost
In eyes’ nights scattered.