the world of imagination, all things belong.”
gray forms concentrics. Shuffling sheet
singing rivets domed and smooth.
winglet, raked wingtip device vortices-
of Yeats’ gyres. The physics
it, the it of it.
is all about shapes and
lines. A meridian becomes pulsate and
planar. A weakening of gravity, the
dismantled. The matter graying, the
becoming air and columns through spheres.
think about splicing algebra. The
x-y, x-y, x-y.
like strings flicker,
is a terrible thing to want perfected symmetry.
is a terrible symmetry to want.
air twists ventricles and vessels,
space between circles and eyes,
specks in the iris and the distance
a crystalline structure, the angle of grains
in salt and light and years.
breathe now. The columns speak.
click. Vocal cords seize.
gravity shifts elliptical. Flex and flux
fluid body sinks to a curve.
forms in continents and water traps.
breath becomes a rippling machine.
torn ligature widens bodies and gravities,
time-zones and measured space.
swells from planet to lips,
touch to touch to form,
from a prayer-cadence caught in