AN IDEA OF IMPROVISATION AS ENTERING A TEMPLE
or sensing, no inventing
the singular sound of
a bowl of fuchsia blossoms
to somehow say
“why is a future tense”
to reflect or project
what we alone feel presently
becomes a recurrent currency—
kneeling or falling before
a nearly purple sound
to make what
we might ache to field
or place as scene—
a local sight
of the solo
as empathogen.
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