Excerpts 1. And 2. From Chronology Of A Cinematographer Poem by Marcos Oro

1.

We rode up.
Pitched a tent.
Inconspicuous.
Dimly imagined.


2.

You rushed next door (((pleading for a ruthless
Delicate momentum
Of pretty loosening vortexes,

One spirally spiritually sunlit blue flower-

Tilting. A burning blurred enigma. In

Fragmented sunlight-
Glass broke up into a millennia of partially
Indistinct puces and russets

-instinct of sparkling cracked glass

equal parts daylight, and reason.

Glistening in the uneven featureless
bowl of water-

Creak of old paper being folded-

Those eating up art: popcorn popped
in red pockets-

Told.

Toying with beingness; unstuck
In the floating cache of a disparate
sphere.

Gradually coming into being.

A jack. Acid glow.

White azure of a sensory electrode crackling.

A thick scathing steam settled over the rooftops
Of our motel. It

Bled into some of our rooms. Into some of our
Sleep, as we slept

The smell of cold salt water. Creep crack dawn-