Stuffed. Flocking from the air. Spinning in a figure eight to save space. Twisted up. Twirling in finite grace. Space. I never thought it could be this way. All my dreams wrapped up this way. Then. Such a tiny piece to lose. Not even once, but a million times? Never thought I could be so big. Yet this tiny scent dreams on on a tether to descent. A piece of a piece of a piece. Smaller and smaller, I don't know if I'll ever be able to see it again. Precious me(?) drifting off in eternity. Generations. How can it be? A flake of skin grew into handsome him. Bigger than me. Almost twice as tall. Always with me in his soul. How can a bit of chromosome come off the body, grow full grown, and still have enough to inform another generation of men? Then from that diminutive speck another life takes shape? And though the one grows (miraculous), it only has that so much to give. Another one takes place. I can see his face. What came from tiny me, a tiny he, and another and another. Growing from less and less (what?), of little me.
The environment adds a task, fills in the mass. Spaces grow dense in accommodation of comporting ephemera. Where is my matter in that mess? He speaks my name. Speaks like the lake before me, Father. His style is definitely mine. Why has a speck of me been able to last to, infinity? Secured in the blanket of World, his splinter of chromosome has made so much, so much more. But of a more and more minute evidence? How has he gained my fame?
My chromosome, my dna, my aura, followed, surrounded, electrified, and felted in, in my tube to him. Physical threads of a life long grasp continue to spell the past, present and desire for future. I wove a place for my joy to retain my culture and be a family loom.
February 1, 2016 FELT
September 28, 2020 Chromosomal Organ
February 3, 2022 gravity
in - transform - out : the metabolistic route
Independence Day 2021, in my tube to him.
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