Toothpaste

Three Revisions

1.

Forms are what I call
This system of profligate shades
And shapes, this geometry
Of architectures, variegated
And various, whose collisions
Invoking and provoking sound,
Echo and re-echo in the corridors
Of my precipitate memory,
Where the architecture of these forms
Is already their horizon, already the Form
That shapes them like tooth-paste
Is shaped, tunneling through the caverns
Of an aluminum volume.

2.

Forms I call them, these architectures
Profligate of shapes and their horizons,
Whose hue and cries re-echo
Through the corridors of the mind,
An oblique plane, a patterning of linens
Tinsel-strewn through the apt recesses
Formed and falling off; their mute application
Returns me to my being,
The place where I was born.

3.

Forms, or so I call them, these profligate
Horizons, architectures rich
With the stirrings of thought, volutions whose echos
And cries, calls and appellations redound
Through the caverns of my memory,
Resinate already with the shapes
Of an idea whose tunneling structures
Have wrought what these aluminum volumes squeeze.