A Brief Flash of Light

Light, sand, snow. Dreams of the blank.
Reams of unlined bleached paper.
Pale sky neither cloud nor clear.

What can we do for you here?
Pick up a sheaf of attempts.
This one’s something about love.

You like love, don’t you? This one
Concerns a white paper box.
A little too on the nose.

A paper on stars eating
Their own planets at the end,
Molecules washed out in light. . .

Here’s one on strange happiness.
What’s strange is that it stays strange.