and highlights too, the contour of a known silhouette, obtuse and not forgotten until time rounds us forward, and the delicate brush, the found delicate wild brush of not things bastened, the flipped curl of a trinket untorn and now whose confusion arrives? whose turn is it for the gaze, whose zoomed-in gaze was so macrospoken and micro-out-flandered to be so ornate as one of god's gifts this is, after all, a godly creation, not to make a desk seamless of the eye but to see myself in the world