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SKETCH 4

If the fourth dimension is time

(which it must be)

then the fifth

is the force that infects

your soulmotions

how deeply into your heart

something accomplishes.

Now all dimensions

must (exist) (simultaneously)

and the hardest

to draw must be the first—

so basic

but the fulcrum

of all complexity

indelible artifact

marked up with its own fame

two, three = too easy

one

and four

meet to form

what we see as binding

a cord of time

corded flat motion

accorded

by shape

by purpose

white sweet bee

lace of flatness

petals of happening like grains of rice

THE EGO OF STORY

I am the storyteller am

the protagonist I am the

listener who reconciles the three.

 

We like to hear stories of

ourselves like to see pictures of

ourselves and so of course we find

ourselves in the three.

 

I am the consequences am

The relativity am the

equilibrium that hangs among the three.

THE FORM OF RACE

purebred people, mythical, but many masquerade smiling

while their combed coat is floating and their hindquarters

sashaying in the predetermined manner.  What is the form

of race?  colorblind doesn’t work, it’s escapist and denies

and polarized won’t cut it.  macroscopic, micromagnified,

no.  we need still something more intentional, a lens that

won’t distort, some way of approaching that doesn’t steal

the essence of breathing right in front of you, of context

circumstantiating the Truth.  illusions of self righteousness

and xenophobe contortionist fear—the acrobatic clinging

to terrible notions of supremacy—are lockjawing the progress

every silent judgment is a prayer for the façade to keep standing

in its cardboardly corrugated way, replaceable, biodegradable,

industrially available, rigid but once bent remembers the bend.