Dayshine, deyshine, spines in the air/road/area code/ minaret/no/know-- Ignore the way he leans on the exit less like two wheels no more mores too wielded anyway, like nights in a field of blue limbs reaching, getting rich on the wind, day moores like Othollo might, if you give him his yellow bright bird, live, between sentences and senses of program, on the handle of a dull evening, a day shining back its neon score board, I'm yours, and yours, lean on me, pull me up before the buzzer
