Gradients and
radiating lines –
vectors of
the specters
of the kinds
of geometrical
expatiation that
can tumble
through and into
newly-minted
possibilities
of seeing –
all of which abstruse
abstraction
somehow ends up
being
what is
turning into outlines
of what may
one day
be me and
you. Another toss
of probabilities
ensues –
and though we
are stark
naked and
entirely lack hues,
we stand the
chance of being
news. So far
it’s all a little dense.
Not a single
word of this or us,
of course,
makes sense.
Who could
think it would?
All is going as it should..
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