The humidity, the heat,
the contourless smell,

the sharpness of the ur-eyes,
loudly braying, distorted and
wrong

The nose holes
open and close
in lightgrainy night games

Heavy steam,
garlands, tentacles,

skeletons in line
vertebrae after vertebrae
the conductive thread
of an invisible life-form
Light loops
in a cipher
of pixels

And the horn’s membrane
a milkgreen lens
not a thin skin
that nobody can touch
Do we have lungs
or gills

The zeitgeist doesn’t fit
in the gills of time

It doesn’t help to have
a fixed target
Not even Cambrium
works as bone glue