Tuesday, December 29, 2009
We leave from a single place; arrive from the distance at the same place. We wander the compass: our paths cross yet we move on. The horizon surrounds us, our single winking eye.
Small star. Asshole. Firework burst. Cobweb scaffold, the spider gone. Footnote from a distant constellation which may exist no longer. Doleful snowflake: matchless star in a storm of a single flurry.
Six-pointed: first position three-toed ballet. A W and its pond other. A bedful of Xs, their bodies crossed. Five-pointed: endless knot, pentacle, little headless man, leaf spine.
A tiger in dreams. A railway car. Things and their inner shape. Matter and the beams of its being. A marking of more than one way of seeing the spot.