Continet

Here, Approximately

Dragon orange, morning comes
With Atlantic birds
And dragonfly helicopters
Screwgunning the breeze
And the phosphorescent gunshots of machines

The mind inside this blue egg
Of daylight, wakes with vague
Thoughts of nighttime yolk-leak:
A lone lamp in the leaves
Liquid booming windows

Gleaming with trafficbeams
And the stoplights and leaves
And the columns and trees of lamps in the river
And the river flowing on to ocean and dawn
Where the mind wakes with the half-hatched dreams of night.