Where did it all go? (3/20/26)
I write in pen to let it lie in permanence. If this song could fill this room at equal volume, lift the bugs on molecules of sound, send them flying through the air and into the USB port of my temporary desktop, might I program a new, natural chatbot? Cicada, sing me a 17 year-long song that outlasts the transience, the mirage of a $5 subscription to the quick way out. Rhino Beetle, what's the best way to prepare a baby for this feeling? For this knowledge that threatens to shut my body down in 5…4…3…2…1… Instead, I ask the mites on my eyelashes. "How many times have I had this thought before?" "Will I think it again?" "Do you have the ability to think for me instead?" "Am I real on the inside, too?"
pic from lucilebare on pinterest
