At arm’s length..
There were dimensions an hour ago enabling 2 events in a plot we’re party to. Tenebrae, we said. Let’s return to the olfactory sketches, in which the cosmos is left and right unexplained. Constant and converted. Incandescent, then, our ardor comes back to choke a rocket sidelined by a braided chord worn as a necklace, a burning space distinguished by the complements contained.