I.

Fasad al-zaman drums this waltz.
What’s a hobbit to do? Black glass
holds gazing cassowary mind.
Or: collusion is a rainbow.

Night sound of downpour. Stubborn thing,
a corny dog’s lost waft, and pain
stood. Aloft through curtains of myrrh
cantrips wing in occulting night.

Tomorrow won’t understand us.
Far from our folkish basilisk,
and our uniform indigo,
high sun and smog-swirling war kiln...

Colors solidify through kiln
action; allow only a waltz
and many will trip. Pity us
who found our Wyrd in indigo.