Opening symphonies out of circles//a more rounded I writes its experience onto a heart uniting incompatible senses//shared as leaped and gathered distances//auguring the sounds
of human life//using extra-ordinary opposites magnified as the rill of a quest.

Pre-existential samples shutter//part of a numinous love by each syntax//many though
one drawn clearly//documenting emptiness
//the imminent release of blueprints for observing each moment.

Sloping everywhere//birds-of-prey drawn to disaster//not shadows//migrate to concepts running through the gathering of an absent anthem//inheriting a symbology that binds someone who learned to step clutching the braids of shall and shall not.

A perfect anguish would necessarily see how every stitch is an image//a community impression magnified to hear forgotten incantations//and how reality's theatrical bruising of that large adventure had persuaded one august man to be part of the paradox
//round & pageless//the Icarus of doxy
melting laughter//mackling secondary particles with enough roots to keep locations codified
//leaving that pierced Being to evolve on
an earth more focal-plane than realm.

To find a shepherd without a god harmonize
the vertical with readings of dreamlike forms intent on befitting their faults//reflected in
an anthropology that uses fetishes to sway us
to profess reverses.

Appearances order documented conductors
to reach into throngs at a loss to apologize
for a world that hides its bones as orchestrated cover//as if some roundly formalized temple
//a kiva maybe//distributes the shapes of power that seize the drum.

As shamans made of furrowed bronze and karmic objects figure in an art that once was a body of predatory colors//as red is a robin's significance//symbols wobbling between interstices//bothering experience//with revelations with fingers to count on a priori //religions sensed perspectives to stories
in emotive language now so strangely stable.

Streets that collage into unexpected meetings recall an obscured terrain depicted as
a woman's diagonal words following the whole
of ideas//not saying tamper with the night but leave the gods as support//but how to connect that which flies by supernatural concepts
to its own lack of meaning.

Made of parchment in enthusiastic sections sequestered to celebrate those almost walking spirits who inhabit stories totally of background choreography//warped in time written as attention//compositions emerge with feelings for contours//and seasons whose strange lands whisper proportions entirely of a latter-day sky.

Be as surprised as those whose ambitions
come to be written as impressions accompanying unaccountable conversations
of a colonized past//escorting graven spirits animated to be as real as allegories describing deer as radiant just because they equate
with one medieval cult//is the picture
from which we descend with the discourse
of this tale//inscribed on a screen.