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SAMPLIN
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Event of oneself, ongoing primordial, Without way or opening, a very hard fall. In the beginning, beginning’s very middle, See my blinding opening, your pure white hole. Summoned by something making answering its call, Walking an opening where stepping is trail. Stumbling perfectly, on stumbling, the way a ball, Deep surface, no opening, feels, cannot, its roll. Will these clauses, unconcluding, speak being’s wheel, Our anarchic opening, foundation beyond frail? Or are they, caught underneath, wax to empty seal, Signs only of opening, of depths unreal? Event of oneself, so perversely actual, Queerest opening, a sparrow through the hall.
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