From the first breath to the last exhalation
The screen door filters the particles that sweep
Past, the molecules that amalgamate
Into a lifetime, scanty but personal .
Odors tumble minus vocabulary
Raveling with flavors of moistened texture .

The synesthetic substrate of metaphor
Springs from the cross–wiring of the switchboard
Predicting environs with abstract brushstrokes
That capture the impressionistic points and
Waves that roughhouse obscure across the canvas,
A painting that approaches the limit of
Perception, the lunar eclipse of pink floyd .

The ghost in the attic listens through the bones,
Notes other moans and wails, conjures consensus,
Dissects electromagnetic decibels
And the nanotextures of fragrant flavors :
And sketches the forms scratching at the box .