Stationary Waves

Becoming, 
antinormal was not a- 
big task, like discovering a new mineral. 

It was upside down 
a binary star. 
Mother and son of morning. 

From your absence, 
I pick up a poem 
and milk the words. 

Unlike the purple poesy, 
you write, 
when the pith becomes the spirit. 

The houses set apart 
have no boundary layers. 
We were immersed in our 
strange thoughts.