A quantum implication of agency | Building silence or neglect | We travel to the place of our hands, our desire | sets the new mystery in motion, call them the flowers, call it the game, the sorrow | Adjusting translucent syntax, counting the numbers | laying out the integers, placing them side by side | with starlight and moonlight | The fire writes a very different biography | of the trees | The forest’s account of the city | never tallies with our own, how could it do? | Keying in the signs, arraying charges | an impossible phosphor sparkles in the darkness, taking the shape of your next order | Why do you seem to slip away, forever, as if nothing’s happened | and as if your quiet breath didn’t | disturb my night?

Relating the story of two things | Seeking some semi-divine harmonisation | The neat eggs of concepts crack and hatch, then reform | We never put the birds | back inside those shells | Their wings glisten and their flight is graceful | Other people come along and take up the smooth | eggs of the same concepts, crack them and | so it goes on || Relating the story of two things | Forgetting the story | and in the space between | as we seek a new harmony | from the street outside | look up for a moment | hearing young birds flutter and sing

