even as miniscule stitches clasp each other,

weaving a stretching fabric spanning mountains,

a screen is bolted down,

and the hole tears open.

miniature limbs appear,

brittle and timid at first.

then supple and wet


there is a dirge and a deluge here

a chorus of feet slapping the ground

after and after another

a litany of pervasive, percussive panting.

emerging from each erupting nodule

the grinding, grainy pixels of every reality.

and an extended line, of light, to an unknown audience.

that which travels along those lines,

pushed in any direction would end

at a point.

the light stays still, unchanging,

along the trajectory elsewhere.

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