The Intuition of an Unfolding Elegy

Between the granularity of the
rolling, roiling, rotation of spirals
burrowing into the ornamentation,
sprouting acanthus ley lines whereever the
vertices twin from nucleations like a
midnight rain along the piano ebonies
of the blind conductor's moaning spellcast
whose sparking baton engraves the silver-eared
with golden notes fading, cascading, evading
the knowing gaze that passes by with the
echo of familiar footfalls straying from expectations
like a whirlybird alight on a gust
bestowing the enrobement of an escape velocity
sown onto another torn-sleeve-storyhour told
to an empty gallery, leaving the ultraviolet spray
of spurned spittle sputtering into the wind
sin and asunder, a spread-eagle wonder
never fully delivered into this beloved Elegy
a simonized charade of harlequin dreams
smearing into coriolis' caterwaul spun to a fine thread
to fashion mandala moons from spider webs 
plucked
anew