arm stretched like chewing gum, legs melting upward
as the painted dome rises from above and falls
from below - it's here.
there's circuitry in the vascular walls
pumping existence thru tiny corridors - it's this.
the neon caramel navy turns septic, then polygonal, then filigree
matching facet for facet the violin strings which drop like dead birds
to sweep up in a gyre, breaking and threatening to break
breaking and threatening to
and all the while the dome reverberates and rotates between
past and fiction and song and place and person and touch
and planet and particle and part - it's now.
