A lady makes lace

A fistful from elsewhere

Punches back in brass-ware-bare-

knuckles wedged in the apex of this-
body

cage thatched walls, splintering straws

called shelter and In-side to pro-tect this

(hide).

Half dives of full lung, skimming the top ten percent

and heart labors with lead levers, knobbiness is us put out

subwoofer, speaks her dropping a guillotine beat tapped
feet.

Shine, reflective knowing rust by blood

does not make it more occidental
or evident.

Voluminous was in front of us.
Luminous. Seethe and simmering. Conduct thyself.

It meant we were alchemy in the ancient light and cubed to

feeling how close we must be-coming-a but-ajar-
collided with vaporous transitions in space-not
now.

Inevitable and deaf,
truths collide and cling on crystalline charities,
pyramids and Euclid's. 

Insoluble, diluted, inconsolable.

I heave recycled the air, carbon copies fuse for our survival

fitting with such suffocation as we wear with elephantine
authority sans sin-cerity on extended vocation, retied without
social security
which

never Was
you are welcome.



Painting by J. Alden Weir [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.