A woman redounds for me- she
Out of a black bakelite Bach prelude resounding– she
Pushes out a sliding syllable pulsating with promise and redialing–she
Twists at the dial, with its little circlets of some metal, imbedding her message–
She contains all, and all comes out, above the twisting coil, a spiral coil which condenses itself, retracting or expanding as her need dictates,
She offers her meanings, proofs, purities, into the meaningful, proven, pure pores and perforations
Through which we communicate, and command performances.
Bestowal, and nowadays, with a cell phone.
Spam of Human Affection 
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