Patience

The sum of laboring on and on (and on)
In beginner’s mind.
Your perception arcs and a red offense
Descends—you’re taken aback.
After further reflection my flexion locks,
Fades, and norms dissolve.
Each sense serrated, your soul ragged,
Your eyes have seen the dark limit.
I know less than I think I know (I know
This factually) and my rocks are punks.
My exuberance is childlike / your need
For creation comes first.
I wait.

What I’m Reading:

“Spinning wind into something vatic:
seven synchronized giantesses.
A thought only rarely coalesces
from the brain’s static.”

— Agne Mlinko / “Wind Farm, Texas”