I chuckle.
the Fun, the Fire of Flickering Xenon
the Sheer Shimmering of Sequens and Starlight
captivate
and Eager Anthems Raise;
excitement bourne of bleating
cast in digits twice significant
reduction
of the form to function's haze:
a frame of twenty-four-
a part of forty in a glass-
a boy's eighteen-oh-five
(we cast our mutton now in brass)-
from all
to real
to rational
by nature we assume
and countless count our intersections, weaving
boxless products on our loom.
Now:
I throw a dart at emptiness
and hit it;
thus
I
Chuckle.
