Wheel-being

Flames sway on the periphery 

Twisting and bowing as they are syphoned

Into the glow

A sigh of relief nourishes the ember

Holding Gentle

Orange light!

Expectant - a soothing hum 

The ear meets an absence 

Cupped and held

The spectre of sound 

By a cross 

By a spiral

In the Junction 

The head doesn’t turn 

Out of necessity 

The body starts to roll

There is and has been gravity in the Centre 

Wheel-being 

- going down 

In the basin 

In the ravine 

Light works differently

It is blue but not cold, 

Condensed

Dwelling 

Perfectly safe

Nothing could be the same, and Nothing could be different 

A creek in the ravine 

A crack in the seam 

A sheet of glass combed over the figure, Being 

Flayed by the stones

A thousand seas parting and forming 

Film on the faces 

Surface to surface 

Steps of The Stairs 

This is a stream 

Where the head can’t turn, 

A certain time passes

Hands, arms and legs

Merge with the pebbles 

And pebbles with the stones 

The faces were there, 

Already fixed on the sky

A blanket of ice 

With clouds stuck in its surface

Reflects the hue 

A greenish haze settling down 

A feeling of freedom, a stream that runs clear

There are no stones here

No bodies 

No gurgling voices 

Only flowers in the breeze 

With focused eyes  

Locked to what blinds us

There is and has been flames on the periphery

Matthew Cangiano 2026