»The bone marrow was somehow
replaced by a kind of airbag.«
The Dawn of Species
Do I need an ouija board? A miracle in harrows?
It need not hurry, slowly.
You encounter flight; growth of branches, light
wishing it would always go on like this – a mix-up in the midwife’s hand.
And always rinsing it away.
Washes, pouring through your glassy gaze, from sleep
at the Argus edge; jutting out of evolutions, clammy and sparkling
to calm the coolness
vowels in the aircraft OIL – via unentwined loops
into the country that’s bunkering itself in, grublike.
For the colours a mandala, bright