When perspective arrived it claimed
a building behind every man on
paved soil. The eye,
hardly concerned
with curve, will follow every line
to the vanishing
other. The men are spun
from choice of colored
cloth, spin—
cycle of pages
from scripture read again,
again, as the son (& all
sons) are saved
in a thousand
fabrications.
A feast of reproductions
in the age
before mechanical
error. Before trees
& cities were allowed to touch,
the I had to find itself. Thus:
I dove into
Your fantasy,
& never—