Worn powerbook keys entail
all the wisdom of a Matt Drudge,
a luster and shine of animated gifs
in the twilight of bright lit hands
typing legends with an invisible
“A”. The residue letters and the
story builds into a warp-speed snail
sailing across a razor blade of HTML
Flash and Photoshop, over the
blank metallic salt of an endless
and recursive path that never hits
concrete, just a field, somewhere.
A field in the middle of nowhere
rolling over rocks in a thin shell
of nothing into a nothing trail
of stars, that may or may not be real.