Here for now a small wonder
tea's velvet tongue on fluted teeth
nobody's fault prevents the poor
from being born, with spectators
no wonder foreign objects
contrary to light
touch and go numb
possibly people or plants
half indoors, top half outside
seeing stars at the edge of insomnia
and gray apples at dawn
number, uneasy and underfoot
in some lifelong radio outskirts
from Alan Bernheimer's The Spoonlight Institue, Adventures in Poetry, 2009.