We are here for the ride but who knew such fractals...
Every tongue tip waves particle internals eternal, so to say.
Stuttering mouth quakes its own evolution.
[It's hard to tell, but I think George intended double spacing.] It's about sex, don't you think? Not only that, but good sex. Of course, it also describes George's relationship with the reader. We are here for the ride, he and us, but we did not expect these tricky fractals. (And what exactly are fractals? "A fractal is an object or quantity that displays self-similarity, in a somewhat technical sense, on all scales. The object need not exhibit exactly the same structure at all scales, but the same 'type' of structures must appear on all scales," according to the rather inchoate Internet (but not Wikipedia!)) (Your best plan is to Google "fractal" and look under Images. Fractals look like Valentine's Day cards from Jupiter.)
Incidentally, that poem I quoted above has a title! It's "passing purelands folded in saying so." A lesser artist would have left it untitled. ("purelands" is probably a reference to Pure Land Buddhism.)
Why all this wordplay? Partly it comes from being born with the name Quasha, I suspect.