What –, when I not aware
—asleep to draw reprieve
or open to you here,
the order of ineffable color,
for which I do translate?

What is its backing?

Why does it leave
...in its wake
from morphing, dissolve, defragment',
axioms of experience
(so easily applied...I could forget them,
...and so human)
left without proceeding train,
that have me to hope to live in their mouthing
—radiating exrays lining abstracted monochrome words

I've lived in them...
and for a moment,
and then from me they are taken.

I just needed to hear them,...
to feel them
and they would be mine.