an agent in pools—of
dust, dirt, grime, shadows. held by a doctor, then mother, then father. high
tide was flowing.
if to discover
myself, if to heal myself, with many unknowingly, indirectly, guiding gently—in
math of science, in science of religion, in human conjecture. low tide was
flowing.
unwittingly a
strong appraisal, a statement, unison, alienation. a person would first ruin
first impression.
an unwritten
policy claims something harsh to follow. it excuses agents on grounds of
excellence—many are trying out for excellence—it appears frustrating.
into a sudden
scene, agitated early in capture, made free to keep silent; maybe a consumer of
energies, maybe a torpedo in motion, maybe unsettled. one can’t define a human
person—only traits—once accumulated—one claims a partial portrait.
into industry of a
person, building blocks, inward edifice, from ground-up. as bucolic spirits,
rural in age, more understood, a linkage to water—made in part by speech.
the central point
is an agent in pools—of dust, dirt, grime, shadows; flourishing quickly,
alongside Evolution, intellectualizing Genesis.
