In the battlefields where caterpillars become butterflies, you will recognise
a world out of order.
Another next greatest love story gleams before and above us. A bird in a
turret looking in the wrong direction, the princess misplaced as in
fairytales. The worms you gutted yesterday, or tomorrow, resurface here
in new forms. The birds outnumber themselves where you are not
supposed to catch them.
When I say autumn I mean our return to the castle. If we can choose
where we go, if we burrow into and through the solid image. The walls
here all vanishing point and leaning corridor. Beneath us a monster
reverberates, is titan, unreal.