It seems to me, now, that I exist
as an oscillation of recursive mitoses
my edges bleed into their surroundings
my curves form crests that break
in order to feel for new chemistries just as the life & death of a sensation shapes a sculptor's dream
I am an incandescent force
an undulating stream of Potential
keenly awaiting its dissipation
I flow as a molten tributary,
between gender and forget the self
in a tremor of pleasure