SUCH WERE PURPOSES

Playing in the foam the forms of things can make.
Marginalia weaving things together as more or less ever than before.
See weeping too, or it’s no longer called that. “The thorns of life,” etc.
One profile ducks down behind another in the glare.
Flickerthings, purlings up as well-lit matter. A spattered painglow.
Motions over landmasses bare inches from the ground.
Mosses of blossomings appear, readyeyed. Bright reaches piercingly near.

ORDERS

We were told to do what we could and did. Tried to at least, as best we could. What we could do got done in time by trying, trying to get at things in parts but also all at once. This required moving through the substance of the time while filtering it. Simultaneity’s the order of the day, of course the course of things happens once again, all over these rooms and walls, night in and day out. We made walls that look like us and then happened here reechoing.