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.
From Writing the Silences by Richard O. Moore. Copyright © 2010 by Richard O. Moore. Used by permission of University of California Press.