These burgeoning essences--
serve themselves beyond
senses, five.
An opulence who awaits
one hand and foot...come
their late greatness.

Long live the
beauty of ephemerality...
by and by a refreshable
toast.
To whom it may concern,
privileged to peak
its sentiment.

Light*  disrobes  with
dark  strokes--
to  ward  off­  hordes
of  heavying  spaces...
baring  of  baring­
posthaste.
How  askew  the
emancipatory  appears
entrust to lightness.

Take heed, but do
not take hold...memory
is more than can be
remembered.
From personal, to
collective... by
disjunction it will be forgotten.
As if its shapelessness were a ripple,
touching on itself to be--
to remember...till it must
adhere to the loss of its round.
Truly, memory is more than
can be remembered,
minds are drawn out by lack
of distinction.

As a nail is forgotten
in the wood it's driven
in...confounding purposes
uphold liberating ones.
The dull aches of those
inveterate grayish regions
of a standing structure--
inversion of human proportion...
sanctum sanctorum.

I've seen beauty
feign ugly, to behold
what you carry.
Subject to object of
affection, beholding
itself squarely.
As the attributeless
stupor of its own light...
Lovestruck.

The only thing
impervious to
to death & decay,
is inner space...
remain there.