The faster I travel
the slower the world dies

Inside the head of a flower
The sun's
a swinging pendulum

—all Radiance is progress
Of a pre-existent stillness

Stone, inspired
To fluency

curves thought
toward the drinking of Its shadow

grail: grille: grid

The lines recursive to impalement

one point alone
sings cumulative, crowding negativity

My apparitions
distorted by star-tides
Fail to approximate zero

Where sensation's tip
Crumbles to ash

Another
Radio-profile turns, edged with dark cries

objects unfounded
of medieval prophecy
The heavens too grow cold