it's raining light
in the cathedral of circles
crystals flip in the downdraught
tiny advertisements
in the yellow pages
of history
choristers call through the drizzle
sopping with rainbows they concentrate
Byrd or Palestrina
but the congegration dances
to a different tune
their motor mouths
gobble the drifting graffiti
the plankton storm ascends
in my microscope