This one sat on my screen for a while for no special reason besides other distractions. It was written quite some time ago, and I'm finding things to enjoy as I look at it now. I see there a description, of sorts, of my way of composing. Its words are drawn from pages 236-237 of the desktop encyclopedia, brocade to Brookings Institution.
Our waveform story
Verse alone began to suppress the wave nature of sprit, a lost part of speech. It was easier to face complications in free-flight exhibits, colored bracts—toxic ornamentals. Matter-waves moderate the ordinary, its duality drooping in the downy cheatgrass below. Creation, thin or fleshy, desires a new truthfulness, fleshy, more readily made into netting. Custom may lead to a figured injury, or ornamental complications. On one side: the spell of the low-lying ideal. Below that: flat satin emulsions of proof. Contrasting sepals and petals of the sonnet bell sleepwalkers, cast bluish shadows of a courtly ideal. Their metal changes valence when struck, poems wrought into spoonlike forms with pipe-fittings and copper turbine blades. In their deep salt beds, pure desires forage, weave convolution into dream. The mythological does not occur free in nature. Yet it buds.
Image by Oberazzi, via Flickr.
