For and after Vivian Springford, from a manuscript in progress.

frameshield forward bloom of a cosmic stain, up on
the sun’s old weird edge of expansion, to dispense
with the bad news incubus service, Whalen calligraphy
tipsy at the Capital with Harry Smith film stills at off-
centers for imploded suckers phasing out of practice
with attention, shapes dispersed from a composed owl
that ain’t ever gonna think “I’m an owl,” cross-checking
credibility’s what nothing with flooding & frequent
lightning, original hatch buckles, portal to nebulae, im-
probably red lava beads playing at surfacing, burning
grazes onto the enigma plane, yellow looks out & up
to the edge of a triple interior, a center obliterating
perspective for reformation’s feint, we rhyme a lot,
raises concerns, top down coloration shroom view
receding geography flake-stains the way of the pixel
back into the trail, that red sharpens the forward edge
to make kindred forms estranged enough to signal
themselves, 1984 seeds seeing’s change, ghosts a speculate
raining so hard the drops bounce multiply into rooms,
heat fuzz pushing out of reference to authority, so as
to desire being lost may require lost’s permission, the
desire to be lost brought forward by finding myself lost
untraining to project or training forever, entraining to
anti-project & anti-reflect in the intense heat’s opening
depth, remindered out at the frame’s corner, in an
untitled cosmos series, edges taking full extent as bleed