On any given day, the hour expands within the hour, the time an equation and time trespasses, forwarding the memory, our starry night’s are strung, embodied fixtures, those singularities, worldly in equations: they affix to enlarge then horizons, strung to the one, twelfth in four; the repeater forward to strand, a then homogeneous singularity. The billionth star, one million pearls, each to their own thread, one circular pearl curbing daylight, clasping four years within production.

They shape the clouds opaquely, resident thoughts to counter the lasting page, audacious summaries vesture the nape, curvaceous suspended, they are strung to bountiful lies. Teary pearls they whole, the everlasting moon crevices twofold, conduction as time applies to the informal boundaries, curvaceous memories a speculation to then align the myth of time has you brought to mind.

2022 © Adam Blewett