Monday, March 3, 2025

NO-MAN'S LAND

It's possible that 
you and I exist 

not as 
a series of near-
infinite points, but 

more as as series 
of near 
hits and misses.

In both cases, 
some kind of
surveillance is involved—

some orienting 
spin somehow
superintends

the blind-alley waste 
of directionless space—

but in neither 
could you say 
we've mapped 

the lightning strike 
of being yet, 

even though 
we've been surveying 
all the right places.