There Is A Grace Of Life Which

Of Rhythm Is Image / Of Image Is Knowing / Of Knowing There Is / A Construct

What Pudor Pejorocracy Affronts How Awe, Night-rest And Neighborhood Can Rot What Breeds Where Dirtiness Is Law What Crawls Below

There Are No Hierarchies, No Infinite, No Such Many As Mass, There Are Only/ Eyes In All Heads,/ To Be Looked Out Of.

Dead, Hung Up Indoors, The Kingfisher Will Not Indicate A Favoring Wind, Or Avert The Thunderbolt.

An American Is A Complex Of Occasions, Themselves A Geometry Of Spatial Nature.