1stOct. × ’16

If I am a box
and you are a box
vertices stretch between us
Lasers guarding a gem

But light beams slip
over one another
to make morning

And goslings flock before us
as if we know the way
to show them through

Though we too
are lost
in the milieu

When vectors cross
meant to reach different ends
the landscape changes

The dock moves
as the sun sets

The moon moves
as night grows old

I want to strip piece by piece
no clothes slip

into what is not
meant to be

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