There is a symptom with some sort of pre-solstice malfunction. An impact of the varying degrees of sunbeam from the sky. What can I do? A dislocated Centrum of stretching forces, a modern time of cuneiform. Incomprehensible, a diagonal measurement of the medium to be, natural reaction…chemical explosion…it is the tilted perspective of the difference of the half seconds. It is like digging into the starting line on the tracking field, a microcosm. A cycle of time, a Beckett’s black cat hiding in the room is raised and set aside at the other end of the door, and the black cat hides again to be raised and released times after times. Gearing wheel kisses on the cool face, it is elastic. In a lost and hidden yard of windy whirl, the black out scene is pale and weedy. What is the next hope?
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