All those meandering words that wafted from brickbrimmed apartments on meltwater nights.

Those streams that fled like jazz to sewers and eternity.

And all that time a single flame unafraid to stir her metaphors emerged light from chaise Sundays in the basement, the drain where all dins and dirigibles drift to drown in muddled pages bookpuddles spilt spittoons of smothered inanities and mouthed flub the sepulcher of vapid silt.

Those yellow afternoons i wallpapered derisive derridas and sartres and layered profundities psychoticanalysis like sandbags against the oppression purity of white walls smeared ivory glue to fool faux foucaults that i know florid epistems when i encounter thems.

All those derrieres and sharts and anal-i-insist ponderings glucosed in the muck i leave on a brick ledge for posterity.

But on those gems, sleights-of-hands i smile to the moon.