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

              Blowing.

How sounds over the mineral

Of the teeth. The jagged yellow

Flints of the pink cave.

And saying, ah, well, this

Compromise

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

Experience

At the point before

It overwhelms.