The Velvet Book
Texture draw us
back into one place.
Draw the autumn its
certain pictures, ones that establish
what to solve for want.
The landscape spectral behind us.
It reduces.
Step into it, acquire that drape.
Fascinate.
Become subject.
To be subject is to disrupt,
to injure the tender onlooker.
Good luck getting past
the center of the shot. It baits you
neither flame
nor extinguishing.
You call the surface mine
as it digs deeper the well sounding
mine mine mine.
As though consenting.
Velvet give me sonorousness.
Leave me rung. Beyond amorous.
I’ll travel the longing
until it becomes the dress.
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