I set myself as an end. The end, whatever its form, strips itself to a channel between you and me. You follow to the end where, at the same time, I end in you. But, as long as you can focus on me, the form fades away: proximity eats the space away, almost in spite of itself–the form is incidental, the space a set –we might as well be anywhere. I've made, then, a set for myself; you can enter it,  –but, you still remain off-set, no matter how close you come.

May 2018

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