The Hair of Mathematics

The branches run like veins, like
looming cracks; the human is
prismatic with shattering.

Another day a rock flings itself
across the windshield. We have to call
the insurance company amid so much
dryness and spitting of the mud of our
skin. Okay, we'll fix it Saturday, they
assure us. Sleeping through an invoice
slipped between screen and door.

I tried to talk about it, but the words
flew back into my mouth. They
were rightly scared, all the adobe
judges who withstood rain stood with
tears on their nails, aching to hang
me up. All I wanted to say was

Don't look down. The nets are like
the hair of mathematics down there.
I look up and my glasses crackle and
judges separate from the waist.
They look me up and down.

I begin to sway. Back and forth. Rusting
the air with a thirst of new moon.

2003/01/20 07:13:13







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Anningan (in progress) http://www.lewislacook.com/Anningan/AnningansDoor.html
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/


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