THESE LIGHTS I’VE KNIT INTO BLACK COINS ARE REAL LIGHTS

Bethesda 
fireflies and some kind of perfect icosahedron juicing a stone.
when the end is a ribbon of candor, you only tell the truth
and chew gum at the same time.
these lights I’ve knit into black coins are real lights.
i have chambers of me full of YOU.
i keep swimming with Sirens to pass the time.
i dark happy so poetry happens.
aswoon in the upper gloom of my contemporary ‘elan.
i bear no resemblance to my plight
but rather roguishly perfume the perimeter
of a shadow at hand…
sun junky for a fact.
like a gypsy with sea salt
lullabies… swiving sweet whispers
that a plume of vapors storm to the hilt
of a calming thorn.
these lights I’ve knit into black coins are real lights
seeping into the dream of my actual prism.
supping on the serious moonlight of my practical illusions.
charmed in the chest.
i have too many genies to betray a message in a bottle
so i’m all the way in love
with the 
Wish.