Bendings
Samuel Andreyev
Seen through the stripes enfolded hours
O the bendings make luxury amass
Up to the last revealing shapes with
Every movement the air could call its own
Whether it seems to go on, whether it falls together
By the long lines of frequency
Bendings remove to elsewhere, moving the
Matter onward
Sighing by tongs refracting night
Pressing the dash to loop along forever
Into the falling bands of grain
Open the slow evolving lattice
And the soundings will pulse from every ace
Whether it seems to go on, whether it falls together
By the long lines of frequency
Bendings remove to elsewhere, moving the
Matter onward
Sighing by tongs refracting night