A Fire In The City Diverts The Passage Of Stars

 

   There are centuries old measures implanted in the fluctuating carbon of a grappling and furious perception. It is the right of being to foresee the limits and zones of one’s own royal ignition: an aristocracy of quartz, disturbing the night. The claws of language and the blindman's bluff, scratching out the names that make your nerves glow and spread out over the somnambulant landscape––it is not the sacred flesh, without the pollen that sparkles for the shade of your fierce and indignant humming.