Impartial interdependence, gathering its flock with the delicate
turbulence of swirling storm clouds
That prepare for a reunion of Atlases, refining formulas on the chalkboard of
their anticipation, looking forward to the weight of new worlds.
So that we can continue to feel the new weight of our one,
unchanging terra incognita.
Meanwhile our conversation dips its compass into a well of wandering
neon
Holding back memories stained in glass, dark transparence
behind the sun
Not my memories, but yours. Years ago on that carelessly
misplaced afternoon. Adding armatures to the torso of catharsis. Eggs in the
nest of boredom.
To me they are like earthworms silent in the pathos of
simplicity. A poem without rhythmicity.
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