I was on the radio ripening words
birds overhead plaited fore morning tropic wind.

Linen prisms, not to see through light
held dusty memorabilia
small children scooter husband.

Sumatra dove that daily ether far out going on
like white sand in a kiosk calendar
condemned to dissolve nuclear consequence
lust amenities misfortune paraded as righting economy
or was I asleep to find my thoughts.

In the town garden
mud men walked the city wall, forth unafraid no violence.
Squatted, fists of rice beside the chocolate river.

I was by the wailing mosque, absorbed.