To be acutely that is, to be, alone
is a topic phenomenologists
ravish.

The dialectical imperative at
least requires two souls
reaching for the strands, like
light waves, the flash food
of the Universe.

Tomorrow I will meet the son
of Master Albert and the laps
of the twirling firmament will
strike dumb the song of
gods.

Mea Culpa Mea Culpa,

Tomorrow you can drain
the swamp behind The
8th street oak and the
copulating frogs will scamper
away, two by two

I digress   To be me is
always to be

alone


Kyrie eliason


Caroline Shank
10.11.23