Unassembled

today has been alien, from self, its inhabitants, its grayness. most winsome in minds, beauty of those daisies, an architect of flowers. statuesque pearls, light-bending eyes, weeping gently. a diamond is a keepsake, inanimate, loyal to no one; remaining a breath, much kef in helium, strange ideas about immortality. tacks to posters. nectar come sunrise. a soul might elope with a thought. to pause in mid-sentence, debating chaste or filthy, agonizing over antipathies. so great is sunlight, interior sunlit, one might fret over success—the might of anxiety, friction bending itself, a square-mile in any direction. by compass to have found life, by furnace to have unlocked essence, and by grace to smolder in suffering. such a trance, so imbued by faith, one leap opens other regions. lilting into insoluble angst, unfastened sorely, a soul holding its linchpin.
to have infused understanding, addressed by karma, trying to build on invisibility. moving through pains, time made sacred, space made religious; as other than reality, bordering on reality, such unreality—attuned to lamenting, needing spatial art, receiving positive skies; feeling unborn, realized in opposites, chasing chimerical and dance.