Torus Knot

A slipped pattern

patois of looped

rustlers ripped

rug from under

a slim geometry

kept underneath

fair weather and

sole ghosts of

seconds and minutes

psyche to voice

well tangled to

a torch

segmented stitch

perls and subsets

keep fast

to circulation

my x, y and z

sonder murmurs

and in this tot 

of umwelt

By night I am on the grass

my back wet from

last night's rain

my front towards 

this pin dotted constellarium.