Here’s the great Tumblrer, they whispered as
he walked by in robes of naked dragon gold.
Tumblrer, Tumblrer they chanted when they
burnt the rotting books in pyres the Woman
stepped out of. Tumble!
It’s not the joy I give you, not travel but
winterface, interlocking vines that could go
this way sans end, and they do.
Scroll. Scroll.
The dawn is breaking, war is starting, you’re
my magician forever.
I cried when you left me for a critic
in the provinces.
Oh for those sleigh bells! And Lisztmas is
coming—its mania
a brooch that shades
the me and the other...
Sleep. Sleep.
A cameo cradles
the thumbnail of your changing profile
in Heaven.