i wish to tell you about my cage shadows for bars the vestige of faraway things a fractal miscellany meditating the while on the dancing of spiders the tracery of wings the passage of tongues over bone the noise of a pool thrown into by a stone
this is what Longing is made from that it does not wear out!
the night pivots on a point of light i have long known myself to be the skull of a white bear on a white page dreaming with each cranial line, each graph a past migration to distant lands but not that such free body diagrams without text were a way out of the cage
in the track, grooved, music begins. in the bone, smoothed, a polar bear dreams
held in the curve of circling shadows dark and vacant sockets ancient enacted motions enfolded images unfolding the forging of a lasting alchemy that with my tongue i call memory a scrimshaw of the catalogue of days everything has served to further
to come, a journey down the narrowing path towards those rumours of things true