August 13, 2022•197 words
From The Next Volume Of Rendered
The Abolition Of Rectangles
Few are privy to that Mossy Stone
Anchored against a corner in mind.
Gracing the flesh one’s bound to find—
Strikes faintly ‘fore its light shone.
O merciless moments of calling . . .
Did I ever mistake in some verse
Your luminous noun for curse?
Heart lingers on in its falling.
Tumbling through form, the caste,
The crude measure whereby all things go,
A vast journey alone—asunder shows
What doing now with all there really is
Affects in the solid prism of subtle bliss,
Combing the Mossy Slab at last.
I agree with the cavern speaking to me
Whose echo through my nerves may be
The Charge from Earth Herself,
Recounting the steps in myself.
I’ve doted with fever through the space
Of where my life lands & takes its place
All for the sky’s expanse above
Making lower corners gusts of grace.
So hushed below, we admire upwards
In dual streaks of glee & sorrow;
Intent lies in a truer morrow,
No less with tears than with a word.
Lie with me in where the charge
Of the world retracts to enlarge.