Ringing again — a prism on top where you can point to the horizon that’s both magnified and revilingly askew. If you admit you rejoice in tricky intersections you’ll have to skip lunch. I told you not to watch.

I should be collaborating, writing this down.

I’m seated back in my studio, dressed in un-despairing perceptions (and reading) of what won’t be contained — o Swami, nothing to discredit nor disbelieve.