Incandescent orange blossoms over her face and recedes like sunset tide. Serpentine ringlets twist from the smoldering tip. When the light absorbs back the image of her face joins the kaleidoscopic spiral – fighting the undertow, they lose.
A star glides my way to hang in front of me. I cup my hands to cradle the glowing sphere. On my palm it rests and swells. Inside it red purple and blue breathe and pulse in liquid pearl. Too beautiful for any man, it stretches and lays to the earth. Faces spew from red digital lava; the Technicolor water fall evaporates to be redistributed and sewn again as seeds. Neither good nor evil they grow as blanks for us to shape: we will.
Rubbery static in my stomach boils out the combination to my origami mind; folding and creasing it decides a shape it cannot attain like starlings in flight.
Three dimensional static twists and knots into undulating serpentine ringlets. Incandescent orange recedes like sunset tide.