37
A gnostic Heraclitus
absorbs the sunlit meadow’s
dawn
rendering it in a
wordless pogrom
of philosophical
abstraction
he has come here
to dwell in
this temporal frame
to trace oblique
contours
of a river’s fractal
geometry
to consummate
beauty
in an unframed
portrait
hanging askew
on a north-facing wall
he has come here
to scribe the
illegible
runes of privation
on internal cranial halls
to envision a beauty
interred beneath
a gutted landscape’s
tenebrous rind
to dream of an
autonomy
where mirrors reflect
fields of dismembered
orchids
and faces sewn
into an androgynous
dimensional tapestry
a dream of
a chthonic realm
where radiant photons
emanate from a
quantum entangled
neutrino’s core
as spiraling
transparent clouds
rain a Precambrian ash
upon a distilled mass
of silhouetted bodies
consumed
in a platonic
duality’s fog
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