Sequences of memory’s still-frames,
but these frames are six-sided boxes
which include one fragment note of sound
one fragment fluid: a smell
abrupt snippet of energized voice spoken
mixed with the smell of spilled motor oil,
mixed with the holler of a firetruck flying
in the distance, far beyond the tight icon of a
tree’s orange leaf above a tarmac bike trail
a caterpillar has vanished and left a hole
A spider has vanished and left a web
An industry has vanished and left its grain belt.
Split the moment all apart:
The tree’s parallax drives across my eyes,
overlaps with the fleeing siren’s hidden red source.
The silence of the frog’s song stopped
corresponds with the see-through wound;
an unusual telescope brings far buildings to my eye.
Brown iron rusts from right to left across the earth
Alienation coruscates right to left across the Godforsaken earth
