the first line of a poem is a window, to let the light in across the sill
through each imperfect pane swirls in the glass amend perception
to look in alters the view
the next line of a poem enters further into a room, many rooms where light falls diffuse; to pass down a corridor and touch patchwork, or
thread edges of fabrics of lived in textures
and in so touching alters the view
the third line of a poem makes a home for the heart to take up residence, to visit where spaces and shapes partly familiar, alive at the peripheral, perpetually shift