Control at the threshold,
Like a perfect equation
Where explanations would unravel
The cancellations,
Take us back here
To the half-light and the glare
To ponder a dubious darkness
In place of our quest
For oblivion---the daily dying
From denying the miles that must be shed
In your chrysalis
To grasp instead, bad hand.
There's a black mark, and some
Sun, occasions of wind,
And there's everything else,
Kaleidoscopic, out of reach.
