Dark matter

Dark matter

 

Revert to entry: handmade holes

knit together homely hours.

 

Turn back—repetition

masks there is nothing, no

thing where the spirit apparently

nested.

 

Rounded out,

a shape  —  threaded

feathers, filtered sunlight,

excrement, and sweetgrass.

 

Constant variable, an entry.

 

An inevitable unknown.

Fingers unfold, light

formed only. A lie unwinds

in the eye, of lines and texture.

The hard surface of a window.

 

Directive to move through glass.

Will the body unfold further? Breath-

fog, matter to live on,

maintains the tethers;

 

the spider’s

web, canopy bird,

garden cataract, crumbs,

film on the table

of spilled coffee,

gravity–

no explanation given.

 

 

 

 

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