The apparitional psychology
of solitaries, like a particle,
accelerator, stills the willing wilds
so that the miniscule but extent stands
out in the sharpest of reliefs, as
monkishly apparent as a ghost,
red-flagged among the primate gestural
vocabularies filling other cracks
in their collection of stalactites: we
are just too autonomic day to day
to pass unnoticed, live in hidden heights,
experience emotions they don’t have
which don’t have names. We praise an Inner Sun
& are not isolated humanoids.
We sequence emanations that
they do not even know are possible!
among their cubicles & mortgages.
We flourish carefully, refining our
proportions, watch The World with wide bright eyes.
