Alcoholic Octopus Ink (The Kraken)

The self is an anomaly of time–
a glitch in the matrix
within an unforeseen composition of matter.
We feel self within a macrocosm.
We experience being within a setting.
We know what we know,
not through knowledge,
but through awareness.
We sing letters as sounds,
seeking new modes of existence,
uncontemplated before today.
Has the Day a magnificence
that can only perturb such thoughts into Night?
And has the Night an allure
that can only produce such lines?
Where from comes exalting dizzy rapture?
Out of a blue sky or blazing sun?
From a full moon or dwarf stars?
From a symbiotic relationship
of self to all of these—
to see the pigments of Eyes?


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