The questions cease
once he realigns

landing plumb
on her narrators
quotitian plain

where an inverted plotless

tale of return
points to

departures they've
taken before

when her highly polished heart broke into his mind, intent
on a burgling spree and unpicking the thread binding
principle of his universal poetic, completely pocketing

the cumulitive gross of his philosophy whole, including the
flaws of technique she did not account for. His esteem
regime fell a few notes and collapsed out of faith in the

end, repairing to the depth of her absent fine tuned
unconscious order of knowable tune engaging in musical
duels with an instrument bought with the proceeds

they stroked from each other's page. On the way back to
nowhere they chose to reveal gifts from the king and
queen of infinite thought they pray will not harm but gift

blue blooded luck. "It can be said we are beginning
to figure true and untrue together as one" she told
him in a scholastic hair splitting code non but they

could crack. "Between us we could conquer fifty
oollamhs in a composition competition on the topic of
Connla's well and how we meet there on data

expeditions, fishing for fuel to fill buckets of
wisdom with when we awake from our rendevous dreams"
he returned, just before the stars broke down at

the first recognition of a continuous dream
mutually occuring in gaps between departure
and return.