Magnificent indifference
flirts with the inert –
subverts it into cosmos – flirts with the inert –
blurts a grand expulsion –:
blasting hydrogen
and helium into the spiel
of us, and New York City,
on a rush hour bus –
whose harrowing exactitudes
and beauties of amoral strife
reflect, exactly everywhere,
experience of life:
scraped of every sentimental
sense – always only ever hovering above
a precipice.
You know no closer
way to fathom genesis:
its strange audacity –
its grope.
Dispassionately unattached,
magnificent indifference
begins to look
like hope.
.
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