It’s a revolution of appraisal

This word: an obsessive tick
a long pause to the beat streets
and solitary rhythms of diamond astucity
window grace like the palms
of oily residue left between
your doormat and my withering hymns

It’s a revolution of appraisal
how long do I pillow talk
with revolution, like a cast iron puppy
so lost in the steam of the engine,
pane; so wet and sweet like dog iron
come to the desire and let’s abandon
monetary study of the dress of cooks

How long until you note this word
like light beams into your attic
where automotive fingers light
the doorway of autumn dreams
and solitary attire dispelling; light
in the ashtray for hope
the citizen’s hope
the citizen’s flair
do not wear flair for the revolution
its cause is dismissed and archaic

It’s a revolution of appraisal
now the tool kit is done
completely adrift
the startled sun