"'you return from lands equally distant and you can tell me only the thoughts that come to a man who sits on his doorstep at evening to enjoy the cool air. What is the use, then, of all your traveling?'"

ECSTATIC TRUTH

THE BOTS

We bandy about this

faded aquarium. The

winter park. Ice thick

like layer cake. Uniform

tattered at the seams.

We trample like

paper on a mission we

shred the missing

persons pages, talk

jargon, finally, launch

a sleepwalker’s pilgrimage

to rename the continents.