Dawn becomes satisfied with the ash of night. It seems permanent in the country and transversing the land, but islands disappear everyday. Eke of colour from the center, presenting now as a transitive purpose. Vantage light fills the cave of sentence. Time patch not holding. A slick, ragù-voiced preamble turns grey to pink. Call it totally dope, an occasion to speak. Light supervises, your reference establishes your reference. Passage frames the esplanade and maybe you perceive. Look, tho, whales sound in the sky, big as endeavor. Ships pass, sargasso nonny nonny, but now you see transit flying like Mercury. Clearly in motion, shadows have lost momentum, more like a practice. The palimpsest looks set. Practice dawn from over night to smaller minutes still. Hold still and stiller still. You wake or think you do. Stand down, mordantly drawn frame of angels we have heard are high.
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