I was divagating in a fluidity of language
collecting in the subjective aroma of an objective pinpoint
a star deriving its presence by its undulating waste of light.
I contained the arching earth and the moon
pretended to shift through the clouds of a mind
like an unconscious mirror spinning.
The arrow of the sensation was pointed
towards a nectarous instant of sound
a long necklace of harmonies.
My hour is traveling through imaginary pleasing effects
the seconds are my mistresses in red corduroy –
the age – a vague perfume of disparate dimensions.
Beyond Language 