A wall that is dark and sleek, rusty red
A wall that is stone, amorphous and precipitating
A wall that is cartographic
A wall and a horizon
A wall and a horizon on the frontier
A wall that is all skin and bones, that is led by its materiality
A horizon that is tactile, solid, invisible
(mark and erase)
A horizon that is topographic
A wall that is topographic
A wall of a cave, slippery and darkened by caresses
And touchstones to learn more, and more, and more
And the plains of abstract spirit
And a horizon blindly trusting
A horizon elevated
A horizon always remade, relocated, realigned
A horizon convex and a wall concave
A wall embraced
A wall of diamond shadow
(most cave drawings were made by women)
And scales, thin and metallic, intimately hexagonal
(mark and erase)
And the sky on the ground, literally, on the ground
And the mountains too, the mountains and the mountain
A horizon that is inorganic
(organic molecules can also be created by non-biological processes)
A horizon of the future awaits, fast asleep
And the tools opposite
(mark and erase)
And the hands that are painted
And the world that exists: ivory, carbon, nucleus, and bark
And a wall that is endless and lumpy
A wall that is licked and dripping mirrored black
A wall that is sheltering encroaches, cavernous and worn from rubbing
And a pigment that is absorbent, mole gray, burnt sienna and soot
(mark and erase)
Another horizon, a horizon that is not a line, a quick glance alights, and another and another
And stampedes of fossil elephants
And maps of light
And the edge that marks and marks
And steel writings
And the dusty white cloak
And the smoke rock, stretching like sea clouds
Wall and horizon