, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,





child living at three months per hour

sat under a lilac viscous sky and watched the vermilion slicks form and pass

the Way Things Are through which I had come was no longer living with us

what I had felt – under my fingernails – might not be true (like the facades of towns erected for a holiday)

now had reference, I felt no feeling, all Absolutes were off, all interaction doubtful.


The child slept
for a week but is now stretching and
yawning, a new day ahead shining through
the curtains





1968 wormhole: Batworld
childhood wormhole: comicolor
life wormhole: my / superpower
reality wormhole: ‘just because you do not understand …’
sky wormhole: C / playing on the floor / with bits of / material
sun wormhole: texture
windows wormhole: could you throw me some paper / and a pen please
years wormhole: 1968