--- E T H A N   P A Q U I N

When glancing in sleep, any riddle's boxed
out:  night's dry calamine is a foreboding heat.

Listening has breathed into the riddle more than usual.

Naked, how your unsolve whittles at my reserve;
the blemish left behind is an empty parlor, laughter.

When glancing you in sleep, any taph 
is fair game: bio, ceno, oro, epi.

If you can feel a laughing, are you wrong?
Steam, freightage.

Without bulk, dream controls no aspect 
of its trace; without the kill, 

linger is as much a lie as a ribbon, dainty waif.