There’s too little time.
To think that
by halving and halving and
halving again
this can be drawn out.
Somehow be avoided.
Death is no holographic dream.
It’s as real as circuitous
firing triggers of phosphene.
I see light suspended
in this final moment.
The tugging burin
etches away at the
last things it can shape.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 8:32 AM UTC
There’s too little time.
To think that
by halving and halving and
halving again
this can be drawn out.
Somehow be avoided.
Death is no holographic dream.
It’s as real as circuitous
firing triggers of phosphene.
I see light suspended
in this final moment.
The tugging burin
etches away at the
last things it can shape.