I want to struggle for style
sweat for reference
am thrilled by a find
browsed by working through

a text by an author
of that spaced magic
sidelines with scribbles
I think of as meaning

I want to touch
cut skin as crisp compute
calculated indices
on paper and dirt

sides of hands and dirt
slides of charcoal with ink
with clay under nails
as eroding error 404s

I click you on, do I
I turn it off, don’t I
I step in space, am I
won’t we tango, won’t I

swirl this page turner
in the privacy of
an eye on fiber and
one pincer-grip on fire:

I’m, in your story now, ain’t I.

                 —animasuri’24