now not anymore the Island that isn’t a loneliness but Choice without being There we were sitting and The Sea was coming and We (me and you) – a gorgeous staple, Hooked, were creating and we saw him (after years and years) how he was entering like a rainbow huge unattainable and slow brown – like a beam (to hold for it) nonpoetry - the other one is breakable when the meaning they wave – a hand of an insane man before a mirror nongame – the game is dead after Joyce and like a child is screaming for the sandy tower after an adult (a cynical stone) carelessly and with no reason forded through the dolphin is a life vital and his existence aside of the genesis and whole in the sea and whole is reflected nonliterature – the literature is dead implicated into shape and ad of the language but where is here the Rapture of the dolphin – glamour oh forgive me I am entering a someone else’s territory I am not a ventriloquist too I do not practice knowledge there’s nothing new here each new is unnamed a vital place without a place in a movement moveable smooth like blue fused in a deep bare white