After years, things fade back to shapes. Lightness occurs, Spring blossoms releasing their branches. All the dead weight of emptiness shifts because of a sound from the universe. Of growth and flight humming deep in brittle bones.

Is it death--the slide of flesh into earth? Is it a revolution of time and space?

We are dimensions of mass and gravity, lambent memories that once lived in the Void. Deepest dark from where creation leaps, first as sphere and cube, then finally hardening into flesh in which we writhe against form and a longing to return home.

The uppercase letter “U” looks very smug to me, especially when it is emphasized as “Ü”. “F” is how the letter “I” looked when it dodged to the left to avoid a bullet and its hair flew back. “I” dragging its tail looks like “L”. “B” happened when “1” and “3” became more serious about their relationship. I’m afraid to know what war “i” came from to have had its head severed from its body. Why is it that capital “Y” is more a question than a letter or a sound? How come emotions are combined into sounds that then combine into words? The letters of the English alphabet are strange shapes to represent my emotions, but I know no other languages well enough to escape from them. I am forced to express myself with the same language that oppresses me.