Bothered by moths.

[Guest]

[The Bolshevik Dandy]

Up all night-
Bothered by moths.
Beating ink wings
Like the stuttered
Shutter of early cinema.

Serenely terrifying,
Casting grand shadows as they dash
To or beyond the lit-bulb,
To or beyond here or there
Or all of anceint Eternity.


Dancing their
gypsy
waltz about
the embrous wattage
like ashen flecks blown
by
some fetid
ventilation.

Spung from
the silk of
those crepuskular
hours
that bear
such rotten
fruit.

Dusted.Beating mist like
feathered whims,
Like wrought plumage
Dipped in the
iron filings
Of Yesterday night

[MyLittleMonkey]

Beating ink wings
Like the stuttered
Shutter of early cinema.

I like that...