If the world is an oyster - I am its pearl.

Gathering layers of nacreous sheen

secreted abundantly by my local domain.

The world turns and so do I. Iridescent - my coat is a gather, a shifting glance

where angle glimmers with hope circling up my round body

as it appears to beam



magenta etcetera

Slippery my surface is for your touching.


We, you and I, began

as traveling particles

hurrying through a textured terrain, following,

too soon settled into inanimate state of ideal.


The likeness of ours is cultured,

replicated or stamped to fill other needs.

Other, are needs to appear elsewhere.

Wanting, far from the buffed surface, flavored if so but dimly lit.


The shells are gathered by anonymous hands.

Once heat set

we, you and I,

appear together on a string of events, sitting idly on a neck of a debutante.

Her solar plexus is burning

with anticipation of a predetermined


Buffering, the depression light struggles against day’s repair,

re-routing pathway of dispossessed  to the shells

of newly devised acrylic seabeds,

sprinkled with rare earth

mineral glee.