The capture reads: glass bowl on woven runner. I like to think of each word as a prism available to both reader & writer. Have you noticed perspective is never singular? Have you noticed the same rings true of salads? Of friendships? Of snowflakes? Of words in a fragment? What glass takes in; what glass reflects. All fragments. All gestures.
T being almost an I without the bar invites the closing gesture, teases ineluctable light from the watching stones
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