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.