His voice occupies
one place in the un-
differentiated
field, a
kind of zero
cries at night,
as wind will disfigure
the overall
scheme.
**
Her eyes move,
their turning signals
a fracturing
All the time, she was figuring out a system
in another language
As the story
judges her,
it takes on an illusory
quality
This is also a part of the fantasy, it grows
It
is like a spirit
In this filtering of necessity
through the story, we are all
the time moving
At times, shadowing it.
**
These paths are regulative,
as for instance,
the spheres
rendering us positionless
soothed by the
belief,
incendiary
Emptiness, of which we are
also a part.
**
Her gravity
is part of the picture
which
informs her, as she loosens the frame
She thinks it becomes part
of the account,
the other version.
**
What is mutable
is
sometimes merely
echoes—
As through a screen (through which
her thinking may pass and then dissolve),
things
are passing
from one state to another,
An ever-dissolving current
defines
them—
**
Into
what surrounds us
We go out with a belief
That we are separate from the error, which outlasts us,
as we are inclining
toward it,
Fleeting
words
one measure
keeping us intact
while also dividing us.
