his diorama of
scattered silhouettes of
walls without buildings, mingling with icy peaks
each uneven, each evenly meeting each other’s heights

frozen water looks like earth
Can’t tell if that’s content or reflection.

“By the boat preserved, we see this was an aquatic civilization ‘till these waters froze.” cartoon archeologist girl said while looking like a boy. A seven year old was asked to download a British game studio’s phone wallpapers and to follow them on Facebook. They aren’t active anymore and their work is lost media.

from here it’s like a curtain pocked by cockroach bites
divine light breathing out each crack, arcing it’s back
hoping for relief

real divinity reserved for the gatelight
the stream sucked in his tired, his poor
his huddled masses yearning to breathe free
each out, not across, the water

each stampeding soldier’s on the bridge
save for their implied leader
all led the other way
fires behind walls burn without fuel

indifferent to all
spiky-tailed monkeythings dart along long boards
connecting each peak
act of god, act of man, and each in between
poles over shoulders

(one’s in a wall’s circular hole, backlit by flame)

I am the 21^st century Emma Lazarus.
When a constellation of belief side-eyeing me through time and space births
something so definitive and impactful
I resign myself to branding it with a kinder meaning that’ll never be true.

a single flag
sags near the top left

of the top right panel of Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights.

as close to the top left
as it can get
without blending into the darkness.