Cy Twombly, 'Night Watch'
As gestures to beckon geometry's end
I post letters to my lost Mayan sisters,
solicit layers sussed from layers to test
history, push past parallel. Mystery
becomes you, Mother, as does the lust the rest
of us suffer, lust you must once have induced.
What perceptions I trust defy perspective.
I take my troubles scribbled, not erased.