• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 11

In this dream I clarify my prior awakened presence.

To whom this glory goes of
restful impersonation? My
eyes, anti-rose, a
calligraphy of anger’s
verbose prose.

Aslant visual mood, no infers
needed.

             Glare-doge philosophy.

My need is to engage again with
night’s marriage toward moon’s
varied
         phrases         phased inversion
the heal-need
language
impulse
             hears when the eyes’ obesity
             screams itself into fathom

1