Sometimes in the Vast Magenta Night

Sometimes in the vast

magenta night
a light excitement

of columnar air arises,
wakes you up,
assumes a likeness

to the human
physiognomy sufficient
to permit you to imagine

you might like
to have a chat with it.
I’d say, go ahead, but if

(as sometimes
happens when
the air’s ill-bred),

you have a spat with it
instead, inhale it –
exhale it – until

it’s dead: and you are
safely able to go
back to bed.





.