Loop topology

Loop topology


Born in a small town, walking paths

on imagined maps. Grown where margins

meet green fields, within seed coats

and insect rinds.


A screen, to protect

nocturnal animals from our thoughts.

Which must not be documented, only

half-breathed into sheets.


To sink into plum bark,

moth wing, a loop to lean into. An imprint

echoes through top soil, between layers

of sun and water, where our voices

leave deposits too faint

to dig up.


In that way,

the fields incubate an opening, a closing,

a flowering underground.


Very faint vibrations, very

faint, and at home, the blades

of grass have started to count again,

counting faintly but just enough to extend

space beneath story lines.


The way space

evolves between roots

growing toward hardpan,


the way limits

create novelty

in iterations.



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