dizzy

out in the swampy night
of murktown,
down a dark street
of lonely
telephone poles,
this poet
with a diamond heart
comes for you.

Peering through
cracks in windows
and sillhouettes
of drunken buildings,
this poet,
caked with dust,
comes for you.

Led by a dizzy moth.
a silly
neon-green
moth,
the likes of which
i'd never seen