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NIN_NOOL

LETTER TO ( X ) .

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NIN_NOOL   

I have found you among the texts

(but not the textures) of your life,

in the library of your cunning,

where the abstracts of forty papers

open, one by one, like small windows

partly sealed by terminology's lacquer.

They reveal you both aloof and enthralled,

a restless mind of intersecting planes.

 

How can I resist the paper "Artist and Analyst"?

Yet I do, thinking it best to stay

within the frame we've chosen,

using the palette we invent,

creating a mosaic in motion.

Whenever I set a shard in place,

the mosaic evolves, blurs a moment,

then a new scene refines, throwing past into relief,

drawing present into mind.

 

So I will sacrifice my yen to know

the what and whim of you. Though my curiosity

is swelling like a Magellanic Cloud

filled with a luminous starfield of questions,

I'll sacrifice them on the altar of our ineffable

cause. A padded altar. A cause quilted with passion,

and insight whose razors cut clean as thrill.

A sacrifice intoxicating as any pill.

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