Solipsism (R1)

If I could stop to consider these bricks, the aedifice
Of an oblique mind, molded together by accident,
Grit, conspiring time, red as our hollow walls
Stained with so much blood, startling, ascendant
As infant eyes of the upward night, stark, impassive
Stars...but I am considering ruins, forgotten
Ship-wrecks, well built, meaning, collapsed on the foundations
Of time like a laundering ocean, disaster sweeping its brush
On the light tips of the void, the inevitability of that void,
Its beauty -- which is really my own imagination, trembling,
Shattering into all these self-same fragments of stars.

Disintegration (O)

When I think of these bricks
Molded together by the influx of time,
Red like the hollow walls
With so many breaths stark, startling,
Forgotten -- the ancient ruins rise again
Before my mind, all the old ship-wrecks,
Well meaning, well-built, take off to collapse,
To disaster. This trembling void of imagination
Insists on the collapse, the inevitability of it, its beauty:
Which is really the bulk of my own mind
Collapsing into itself.