To supplant the septum
ring, it is rousing,

it is a formal concern,
it is to raise it to lips,

the fruit entering its
ample folds, folds that augur

the present and to be here
now, wherein it creeps

out of you, what answers
you, in the violet unknown,

the period accelerating
into the eye like a gelatin

bullet, like surrogate
glitter, shreds of intensity

like light against needles
of the eastern hemlock

shreds, it is to go on
like this, to be repeatedly

denied, it is what it is
to be a formal concern,

and the feeling transcripts
making a little heap,

it is as it were,
down to the wire.