Making sense. Sentence slugs left to right. Leaves a trail.
Silver. Sense it. Sound it. the in and out. The in and out.
Modulation of same. Sense. Seal it in. Hermetic.
Breath echoing in closed chamber. Seal it in. The in
And out of it. How it resounds and echoes in closed
Chamber. The panic in that. Trapped that is. Without
Recourse to Outside.
              Let it out. Wind snatched it up
Soared it away, gone in greater bluster.

The air chamber, and the wind pushed
Through the three vents
How sounds over the mineral
Of the teeth. The jagged yellow
Flints of the pink cave.

And saying, ah, well, this
Is what I can do
The best I can do
With the moment.

Literally, not 2
How to, fold into that/
Time and again, until
The trick is realised.
That is I
In an endlessly recursive swoon
At the boundaries of
At the point before
It overwhelms.

No comments:

Post a Comment