on the last night,
I heard myself say again “there was a faddishness to the way you faced first things, almost as if the word first was itself pure whimsy”
yet when bathed in immediacy, the original source received; this was little known or accounted for, both she and you redirected the fleet as a result of being one and the same
the brief (stated elsewhere) said “twenty-four hours, a red rag” no bull
flushing was your only defence in the dredging of adopted distributions; trafficking the allotted details only harbours colossal stances of irrelevance
this day breaks with reckoning
in totting up artificiality she came to the conclusion behind all conclusions, and there, chipping away at vocabulary, in the pick and choose surroundings that make up idea, ran concurrent themes of taking part and taking apart, it was not then known whether fortune shone with the flow or against
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