Page 84

My mother is a fish.

Proximity distorts

expansive time.

Compressed stories 

echo from the spellular level.

Paramecium beefs and stardust offenses

reverberate now.

Let me see you go

back, back, forth, and forth.

Gazing into the infinity mirror

in Great Grandmother Mimi’s home,

Calvin roller-skates across the attic floor.

Fibonacci sequences,

mandelbrot sets

self similarity across scale.

Hathor runs 

a graduate program

upstate.

Syncopated dominion

The totality of inferno imagery 

manifesting itself 

in corporeal reality.

Annie, are you okay?

So, Annie, are you okay?

Are you okay, Annie?

I used to have demons 

in my room at night. 

Your mother sucks cocks in hell!

Embers shoot out.

The crown chakra ablaze.

The roof 

The roof 

The roof 

is on fire,

Hanged man predicaments.

A home grown homo hamsa 

hysterically floating froggy third eye

nestled behind 

the widow’s peak.

Amithaba

The trees know 

the grow cycle 

of fire and frost.

A fish don’t know 

it’s wet.

A quarter size sticker

makes all the difference.

Change the badge

every Tuesday and Friday.

Time travel hacks for earthly survival.

Flames lick 

the side of my head.

Wells Chandler / March 2024