2004-01-05 - 4:13 a.m.
perforations in a piece of silver cardboard
are beautiful, some machine's signature
some hydraulic stamp
some factory
are all made of the same light that now grows lower and yellower with the moons determined journey across my window
you've left me here with the silver cardboard, and the moon too will soon be taken by a neighbors roof
until then I'll be amazed by that color- a moonlight so yellow! and by the composition of the perforations on cardboard, how they could be anything, but their spacing, their "composition" is exact. the relative positions of objects in the universe is always so specific! mathematics grows weary, grumpy, and finally, at the end, curses at us. the numbers themselves fly away if you so much as poke them. but relativity, that silver ghost einstein glimpsed and fell in love with, is here still to hold our hands in the endless night.
