• Colin Luxton

22.8.22 euclid dreaming

Hidden geometries pitch and yaw. Our planet curls within a placenta of seas, snared in its circadian wheel round the sun. Sagan’s blue dot—our hurtling global house—with endless invention and inventory of success and failure. The Babel of technology. The knife of evolution. Rhythms of culture. Arching conceits of thought and deed.

Persistence as precession. As prerogative. Life; death. Sin; redemption. Suffering; liberation. A strange brew of blood and bone, this riddle of flesh. The lurching afterimage of the ego, the hymn of place, the tragedies of intolerance, the grace of forgiveness, the space of breath. A neurotic, twitching binary nervous system—the global body without organs. Invisible strata of phantom limbs. A hypnogogic step flails the air. The littoral lap of inner tides. Convection. Subduction. Inversion. Sublimation. Symphonies of shadows—pale, leaning-learning ghosts. Father Light. Mother Dark. The slumbering serpent. The spindle of thought. The quiet fruits of patience.

-Colin Luxton

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  • 39 Ghuznee Street
  • Wellington