A Spindle Emerges…

A spindle emerges And worlds retreat into unknowing On all sides. The vortex has been reborn And it figures into the life of spaces Turgid with the fallen heroes of reminiscence And motion inflamed. And around it goes, Taking time with it and dissolving it Into hollow particles that move along Slightly curved corridors One by one, after a fashion. And blackened thoughts Begin to coalesce. The corridors straighten out And empty into vacuums of potential being Sea

Bereft of Words…

Bereft of words, Save for this small exhortation I found Lying in the middle of the street. It wanted desperately for me to help him Find his face, or something fairly close to it, So that he could finally be seen again, And perhaps even interacted with; As x approaches the (a) limit of civility. Afterwards we would locate his jar of coagulated thoughts And loosen them with his mother’s tears, The vagrant shadows of possibilities Forever unrealized lurking restlessl