Utensils

An available palette thickened by air

words I hold and so fast lose.

A thunder so low     an inaudible present     its slow

cycles place me shaking in its throat.

Stare     and beauty opens like a work of fire

a made thing     a connection must be made.

This is to say necessity is a place made all of stares

come beauty     come the final ruin of the world. Stop   :

for what it may be     or was     a burned-in-after-flash of fire

over distance measured light years. The glamour of it all.