inside my house

walls and ceilings

i can feel a round rising

some call it sun some call it earth

never not turning


called as seen called as felt

yesterday was


orbit doesn’t have ground to stand on


spinning, arcing, oval-ing

how many layers

in any direction

from within this seemingly single point of perspective

of reference, of reverence

the dot, the line, the dance

in relationship to

of intimacy

seen and unseen

weaving golden threads

moving matter

making matter

making meaning

making matter mean

making meaning matter

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