"i am weaving a tapestry of her decline from a glossary of cave terms"
(from subsoil karren- unfinished poem. i'll like it better when i read it in a year. right now it's like a mostly-solved rubik's cube that one casts away, disgusted, into the siberia of a dank basement desk drawer)
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this is the subset of what goes on in my head that is fortunate enough to make the treacherous journey through the nerves in my neck, arms, and hands, down through my fingertips and onto the keyboard, through the wires, the computer, and the network, across the country on fiber optic lines, finding a permanent home in the electric memory of some server in san francisco.
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