Thursday, 18 December 2014
from Blackwater Quartet, selection 18
Select a life. Imagine it more than work,
semen jolt, credit transfers: my theory hangs
somewhere in the ultraviolet, just in the unseen.
The razor opens arm wrist to elbow, so many
bright and intricate patterns, the details,
the elasticity of tendons then sudden bone.
Blood vibrates at the far end of the spectrum,
bold as acetates, rigid. Blood packed stiff made you
appreciative, a frequency you escaped through.
The witnesses are shaky. None will testify that light
is filleted, further proof that membranes oscillate.
I remain conscious of the task ahead, scour wavelengths.