Lucy Harvest Clarke

near this light the yes dawn
clip lapsack on feather
where willing codas swore
finite finery gether
to black rack of twilight
the needless want for born
the white crack of half sight
'tis us what do's this porn
this must be a cloudful
to love a painted pane
squares must now round till
the chemical wash wanes
but we are blind my john
and dead to the off/on