The light flickers
Casting shadows
And broken associations
Over the pastel sketch
Such pretentiousness in me
Or supernatural thoughts
That the mirage is a response
To earlier suggestions
Blessed with such superstition
I elongate the pencil’s chiaroscuro
To transform the sun’s rays
Into more than a composition
There, where the crystal
Projects onto the wall
The twigs and branches dance
Above the serene lamp bowl
Meanwhile Max Richter’s
Cassiopeia plays on the stereo
As the body reflectively rotates
Taking it wherever it wills
