Socks Lost to the Dryer Again

Socks Lost to the Dryer Again/

there must be some purpose to all this carnage.

We were only

harvesting fruits from Industrial loom. Writing

A Presage and A Preface:

Where we learned the divine ridicule

of human behavior

in the Spinach

Novel the teachers used to offer us,

always telling us

to do the things they themselves

won't or cannot do.

We learned to read things

they could never read,

codes of deviance in the print.

We learned that

Every Penny Counts:

a glimpse of heaven in the

tarnished face of a copper;

[there must be some purpose to all this carnage]...

Sensing through Censors

the residues of composition and

disintegration which eke-out humanity's formation.

Lilacs scented nervously nibbled fingers

in the formulation of poetry's sketch;

however nimble,

could it ever be real poetry,

only traced in blood?

BUT THEY LIED

who said there was a glimpse of heaven

in the tarnished face of a copper, when

metal is

purely

of Earth...

The touch of skin only

upon the surface of things--

on air or on stone\ A Question:

does even the touch prove prove poorly

Real Presence?

Of odor and perfume.

Of fur and flesh.

The Sun: no, not flower

but metal:

the severity of gold.

Having pets even,

who are possibly responsible

for the famous loss of socks

[how cozy and how cute, familiar fairies].

Enumerated with the memory of

freshly washed laundry\

Or the droop of flowerheads in Summer.

But no,

it is not the sickness of flowers;

it is a metal of harsh glare, a flare,

a fine point to tear up in the shattering

shine of sun/ IRON

triumphant fragrance of filigree metal

making possible the Industrial Production of Socks/

mechanical looms and such.

I digress.

So a sock can be blue

or a sock can be white.

Like all things in sensitivity to

incomprehensibility of colors,

divided from the indeterminate nature of their spectrum.

Then I guess

might as well, if everything is surface

let the Eye be master.

It is the sense of projection and mark of distance.

Where was the center

of gravity? hidden in the

Heart,

my pupil [apple of].

a brutal/

\a happy

:flash: