Created a cipher
recorded it all, the
history of everything,
empire to fall.
I’ve noted all gnats
matted all motes
in eyes or wild cats
small details I wrote.
A review you won’t see.
It’s not written for thee.
(neither for we)
The audience is me
and I ate the key.
All minutes from
morning dew
to nightly do,
in a not-so perpetual
motion machine.
All microseconds
without thirds,
expected to go
fourths and fifths.
I hear an AI did
sixths. At least
on the seventh
we ate.
At least.
We have written all
there is to be written
and even monkeys with
typewriters sit idle.
Under draft rubble,
scrunched whispers
portend a new tale,
wielding words
self-assembled
with soulless echo.
“Hey, eye can see it
now.” And the emperor
walks naked,
triumphant.
Shelved myself.
Tired of catching frogs,
reading Tom Corbett,
and Saturday cartoons.
Just for the moment.
Meant not to be more
than a little longer
than soon. That
was yesterdays ago
and my first distrust
of time travel. No
butterflies harmed
in the making of.
No one folded the
fabric of space time.
It’s chaos if you don’t
assign chores
and we didn’t buy
wrinkle-free.
Gravity is tilted;
we’re all sideways.
String theory knotted
quarks quoting Newton,
and every other sock
has re-appeared.
Thankfully. I’ve got
cold feet
Not whole things
anymore, just pieces
and ices that please
plus bits of dust
that sneeze us.
Entire things don’t
fit anymore, but
disassembled
they nook and
cranny and niche
and complete us
like patchwork
assemblage, a
mosaic of anxious.
City sprawl, zoom in,
frog on a cement
lily pad, asphalt
riveting, knee deep
in road filth, questions:
“If it rains, do I distort?”
And in answer, tires
splash murky water,
reflection becomes
secondary and the
concrete lily pad
mission devolves.
Picture frames with
rainstorm watercolors
facing the wall
implied, unseen,
a trust of matter.
Axe hanging with
a sign “in case of
glass, break it”.
Handle dusty, trust
but fear belies disuse.
Thrust a finger to a
crack in the frame side
and receive splinters.
New product:
dynamic profiles, self
leasing archetypes,
musical chairs for
so-so media. One
moment all the stage
is your world and the
next merely spherical.
We all get turns.
And the only rules:
leave an avatar
better than you
found it. And always,
always rewind.
Calf cramp suddenly
becomes front
page news. Extra
extra, potassium
pumps misfire.
Person invaginates
in agony. Calf
stands its ground:
“frozen contracts
until better hydration!”
We are the sum
of our parts, just
walking it off in
a three foot box.
Conditioning.