Ariel had mixed thoughts: The broken century And the erotics of the paradoxical; The intimate delusions And a light, innocuous pretense Set against the still more fabulous impostors; The smallest will, beating its wings Against the cage of space– These had all become familiar And unexceptional. We live them, Live in and through them. Strangeness lay in ordinary moments Placed against a background –Is there another word for “eternity”?– Of the impersonal: curved space Foaming with brief particles As you leave the room.
[aside]Art is “After Moebius” by *Andrew-Ross Maclean on DeviantART.[/aside]