in the late afternoon, I'd have her stuff the door we used
a rag a bit of old curtain with the pale blue marbling,
and the warbling of the evening star as it approached just coughs
it sustains the high, I have my neighbor Bernie in mind.

As it pings the incense tip licks light patterns, they are shaped as waves
they too warble silently.
 I inhale all of that space, that air even
the absence of it