/250906

Miniature thoughts and
leviathan scars hardly
disperse in the twilight
of flux—that much I trust,

that much I know, anyway.

If what I seem, and how
I see will ever find a common
pace (perhaps a way remote
and bright beyond the rationale
of things, and so the flares that
commerce lends, if sound)

can’t surely tell but only
wonder, as props I chase wide
eyed and bare—and me myself.