1: Of The Inner Geometric
Let’s face the square of it
you’re in it
to rattle yourself a bit
Framed in limestone
shards
partially shaded
floating
in a pool of
enamel red
Blood of
the squared man
smeared
onto glass
in the margin
of his contemplation
His latter years
appear abstract
unbridled
Iced over
in his sound box
breathes
he weeps for you
inside his body
Spins
the previous mirror
hits natal petal
reclaims
his body your body:
amethyst
where
he enters