the house of a vale by the sea
where there’s no waiting
for horses with chalked boards
roofs set to square down the line.
.
which can’t be solved now by sugar cubes
trips away with Plato too visit tubular rotating tides
.
a vine drunk on a life full of love
with a glimpse of Eros on the wing
weaving rules of a second
service at the nets knitting Pearls
of beautiful woven squares.
.
whilst drinking rotating gears
watching webs sewn on a spiders rye
the only light the reasoning found
in geometric bulbs of springtime.
