by Ben Vince
Light spills in like rain
like the sky’s gutters have split
under another Fall’s accidents
& the light is wet
feel it dashing down skin
in tingled
tangled rivulets
a nervous system
collapsing under excitement’s weight
& the light is translucent
reflects itself in un-there
cylinders & cones
air’s airy phloem
gurgling day at the back
of reality’s throat
& the light is parched
thirsty for always more light
swimming in not enough of itself
a salted sea of crystallised chances
missed in sight’s afterthought
& the light is running
& light is the streaming
& runs streams spills light
like rain like rain
& like rain the light
runs on liquid legs
never tired never quite getting there
carving channels in the world
in invisible bedrock
a glass of pure day
spilled not drunk
