Proverbial Zero (a prose poem by Christopher Kennedy)

I had outgapped you by days and launched a public worship of parking meters. My hum-handed bedshakes made it difficult to light the sea-stars and mirror-wicks. The gnawing time-light crept in until the room smelled of translation. There was no time to evaluate the burn system or the ballet of ice-drawn celebrants beneath simian cloudbursts. Those tendencies toward tarantulas backfired in the squirrel sanctuary. I resorted to the tock and tick of time travel. I unsouled the natives. My jawbone felt its teeth turn to music. I offered a furtive salute to teh flag-flapping of the past but the film broke mid-reel. A chasm between the past and the future: the Zeno-present where we live in-vitro oblongota. Such a void and lovely blind spot. Now we’re chronic.


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