One could stare at the color orange on a bookshelf. On a spine of a book, let’s say Andreas Gursky, and be inspired. Not by Gursky, who will inspire in different ways, but by orange. As it unfolds as a color in your brain. And you can think of all the other poets, who when searching around the room for themselves finds the color orange, and everything changes. And their new movements move not to a rhythm of language or of sound, or of the poets before them, but to the color orange, with their lover sleeping on the bed before them, and all they can think is orange and orange and orange.