Ivory TueWednesday

Peter sat around it. there without delay. Peter sat around it. there was no delay, because there it was as Peter sat. It wasn’t what I expected. as he sat; as it happened. as the rearrangements fell and a split sounded. but still I sat. vertical rods here were all black, holding a silence-white that holds a fall and split. there seemed no end to it. but, Peter sat around it. It just doesn’t move, he’s saying. I see it but it doesn’t move. and as Peter sat round it, and as he said it, it moved. the air of the words his mouth transmits transmitted airs of movement. clouds of words round it, a hovering mist of them round it. a circling of words that circled now, a tiny movement round it. a tininess now, a lowering tiny, an all but was now. now just a place where words once were. a once was. a had been place. A Peter was around it.