23 October 2012
p0sthuman: the evening before p.112
Phocion’s ashes
who could stem
violin
increments before
entimement?
in the abyss of culture
the abyss of flowers
my hand
flashes through synecdoche
a window opens
its gravity warps
my sabre
thrums
if this portal’s my
portrait in infinity
it’s a simulation
in an infinite regress
and I’m thinking now it’s
in another simulated now
my widow gathers me
in her hot delighted hands