I close taste to all the world's leeching,
listen to foto nous empty,
sight to never glancing cliché prancing,
scent to but that's how it's always done.

Do you see lines? All lines?

Do you see shapes? Intersect shapes?

Do you see the counter container?

Sometimes it's not all there.

Sometimes it's just not there.

The image fundamental, the form dominator,
the geometric axes, the container, is the border.
Landscape's lines: image lines, hinted lines,
tangent lines, angle lines, each line edge defined.
A white background leeches form.
Black strengthens.

Don't believe me?
Compare.

My site's consistent.
No for-web tools for me;
there's none presumption-free & cheap.
Consistency's a look simple and complete.
If some pages demand black,
all pages shall have black.

My poetry belongs to the dark.
Poetry, the art of speech,
weakly interacts with print,
beyond the mechanical vital.
Poetry's colour is music's colour;
this black complements harmonics.

I want my work awake, not wallpaint.
I want it sharp, not brochure.