Monday, December 20, 2010

Torque

This peculiar mutation, consciousness—
in a field where energy stills—it pulls apart
to make believe the one thing differentiates—
a splay of splinters broken off like ice

While any shadow of the whole—is only darkness,
a resting spot where thoughts can re-create.
What flares—disappears in sunlight,
the curve within a perfect bending course.