fossil record

fossil record


“is it possible for a creature to remain

alive inside stone, inside

this piece of stone?”


encased as a means to consider interior

spaces, infinitesimal

pace, try to map the molecules move . . .


infer the biosphere

in fractal layers’ repeat

as the next, and the next

explodes from a singularity

as creation stories and

calcified sequence lead us

to long, ever inward—


the models break down

past all possible progress


density perceived as holding,

as any creature down deep needs

to be squeezed, a constant to exist


though bones do not convey ghost lineage,

it’s in the traces of two at once,

triangulate elements as the breath

in strata, the giver where there is no need


Linnaeus, hierarch,

forever holding in place

our kind as distinct

in the descendancy


within a kingdom in ourselves

natural descendants of pressure, though

captured bones leave room

in the schema for the coelacanth,

the plesiosaur, early beings crept back

into mud, leaving the rest of us

to our agoras and sins


visible record leaves space

in between incidents for the metastic



as a bother to Linnaeus—the warm vibrations

in the horse’s throat. The eye of the dog

that twitches toward, without any

other move. Aberration in the bird’s eye.

A bloom opens. The next bloom, pistil-less

in the wind. Vacuum release as a bus door opens.

The metal sign at the sidewalk says “coming

soon” with no method to interpret what’s coming


where divergent atoms bond together,

a movement somewhere between stone

and a restless sleep


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