Imagine-in front of us-they silently pass. And they believe unrelated
objects are machines
for recognizing the human. And, again, we are no longer interruptions.
Imagine-in front of us-the beginning is not a study. And they believe
the cicada's larva
reveals narrow secrets. And we accompany: to form, to shape.
Imagine-in front of us-a beautiful garden. And they believe color is the
where we abandon our too sudden bodies. And, here, we are carriers of different
Imagine-in front of us-each word devolves a lexicon. And they believe
shape shuts on a hinge
within the voice they fable. And, here, we slaughter the spring lambs.
Imagine-in front of us-they pass us between nature, between history.
And they believe the door
frame alters the curtains flow. And we are a dark summer moving against oceans.
Imagine starlings circling in a postcard's blue. And they believe oration is the living
thing, the end
of geometric space. And here, in full sunlight, we are gifts hoisted to the vanishing