Saturday, March 22, 2014

Chatter of Metamorphosing Souls

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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