like a child who never felt the prick, building years among latent characteristics, she stares into the white nothing, which is not an opposition to affliction as I feel (staring down the distance) but an extension to her inconsequential array of experiences.

when i took a walk yesterday, it was an opposition to affliction, when i found myself stopped on the path to stare (at the woody stems in the dark amongst the Smithsonian film footage full moon) I knew my affliction like errands, which I run everyday with in lines as letters making sentences.

I stepped out of the path, there was a hanging paper on the conifer. I thought about when my father and grandmother told me about UFO's, since the paper made the moon look like a flying object, as it held closely to the shape of the moon, while swaying back and forth. Thinking made me think about thinking. I quit thinking to oscillate like a star speaking to the moon in succinct vibratory motion.