Full System Response

Porous and as colorlessly unremarkable
as shale – meticulously through and into
which the oily iridescent whole regalia
flows and seeps – molecularly grows

and keeps each alteration – monitoring
more new flows and seeps – at each
of which it glows a little more, then steeps
itself inside each glow until a final florid

yes is almost reached – near transmutation
of a no – or so it seems when you don’t
go to sleep but lie there, watching nothing,
in the coalescing light and winter’s

predawn mystical fraternity, before their
tints and hues accrue, as if in their faint
glimmering reflections your not-yet-blue
irises had just begun to register eternity.



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