Monday, March 25, 2024


If the narrator 
of the this faded 
and arcane little book 

would deign 
to speak out, I'm quite 
sure they'd observe 

that every time 
you sniffed, I sneezed; 

that just after 
you itched, 
I scratched; and that 

as soon as you got the urge, 
I danced. 

Not in space, of course—
not with my limbs sculpting 
glutenous time 

into readymade 
vessels for
operative gestures—but

all through the pages 
of interior space 

which contain the long story 
of how we came to be