The sunset is a swift color by number
activity set for childlike occipital lobes.
The lines, gradations, numbers
move swifter than mathematics
on the train headed to the sheer city.
All is colorful, cooling chaos.
In my cheese grater,
In my dustpan,
delicious dead wood
I’ll toss in the yard
for the termite queen.
What a quiet, introverted sun!
She glows softer and softer until
she leads her usefulness to
someone else for a few slippery hours.
In the transparent city,
ravenous mute mathematicians
render an art ineffable.