Singularity

This was in Noe Valley we must have been looking for a jazz bar which, for the sake of me, I couldn't find and somewhere along 25th street we heard, sure, call it a voice, but the throat that was shaking the air in both our eardrums was a 1000 year old sea shell trumpet calling an imperial ship back to its pier, commanding a ghost goes back to its bones, and to me that fado singer right there, that was singularity, you know, the edge of words, the cliff where whatever you'd call reason happily free falls into something, I'm not sure, bliss maybe or joy or a horizon where both sea water and tears hold the same salt.

The singularity is a butterfly with worlds on its wings when it flaps the air folds then blinks itself out become planet again that sparkling animal that looks out of need and runs legs ending in calligraphs towards horizons that disappear upon approach it retracts a giant anagram animal juggling words that become fire barrier, gateway and the interior itself this sentence is too long the language must break after the second word the singular becomes visible when the mine explodes ladder when the light vault crack Casualty I'd call a sentence that escapes my brain to collide with the other language that I am not yet speaking