Wednesday, October 21, 2015
I curled myself up into a ball at the feet of the veiled one.
In the palm of my hand, I held a question.
The silence gathered itself to answer, and then burst into a dark momentum:
a sphere, spinning unseen and yet sensed viscerally, a condensed immensity, a spring-loaded spiral, which cascaded into a flash of fractal rainbows, visible to an inner black-light, and then evaporated from the field of my perception.
Thus leading to the birth of more questions.
Above the 61st parallel, the colors of Autumn mark our parting with the bees, and the last days of real warmth. I had begun to transl...
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