TWO On a plain of upset bricks, static television screen, a flat emergency Tone, then the warnings of an angular language, a government webpage’s DOS-like green letters on a watermelon wallpaper—hush Hush now under the billboards of incinerated continents, heaps of smaller Textured things on heaps of larger, less textured things, looking for you In the dirt baked to a library of hexagonal tiles where the wind picks up a Scarf of dust near a giant thorn of a tree, wrestling with random arms and hands in the ash The night sky gone berserk with light—O Beast, O Christ
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