Every morn the cup of cornflakes
appears as a portal to the stranger’s grasp
Each sunrise the cup of cornflakes
appears at a further extent of the seaside’s clasp
Cornflakes and solo dance attenders
Ms. Ross vegetates in a soft container open ended
And I’m unconcerned
As long as objects remain on
the lathe of heaven turned
Each diurnal the cup of cornflakes
unsteady tiny vessel of the glittering
essence of silence
Which one will become the cup of cornflakes
with increments of poor Ms. Ross
radiating temperance
I’ve entered within to such a distance
I’ve crossed to the opposite face of the portal
and circling is simply inefficient for a
mortal
When I’m within again I vow
I’ll never exit
anymore from now
what
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