between static hiss
analogue winds carry wire tumbleweeds
turpentine cowboys ride bareback copper beasts
lassoing luddites with technological fears
lamenting the changing world of microwaved dirt
the words are to stoke the furnace while the answers sleep
they’ll catch up the way tinnitus
quasi helium graffiti
some bothered to see
some distant pilot
gleaning antimatter rantings
from temper’s slipstream
the bulbs are burning out
ignite the apostle
knee deep in arcing filaments
elbow the new era
gunpowder punch draconian beards
last night at like 11:30 while we were half asleep kelsey explained to me that we all live in microwaves & the world is a big microwave & the big microwave is inside a big oven & nobody knows whats out there bc microwaves cant leave the oven & when people fall in love or meet their best friends its bc their microwaves bumped into each other. i suggested that maybe the oven is inside a kitchen but apparently kitchens dont exist in this world & nobody knows what kitchens are so it cant be a kitchen
It’s got to the point where I have books piled up in front of my bookcase and in my wardrobe and on my desk, and yet I just added about 30 new ones to my Amazon wishlist and I keep having to really restrain myself from buying more (they’re those Very Short Introduction ones, and excuse me, but I need the ones about Egyptian Art and African Religions). This is why I need to move out, because then I will have space for more than one bookshelf, and I can finally begin the library of my dreams.
Well, I did make a promise that I would take a picture with my microwave if people actually did #microwaveapology (I didn’t think anyone would take me seriously). I follow through on my promises, so here, have a late-night, badly-lit selfie.
Dearest microwave, while I haven’t done anything terrible to you, I do have a tendency to get really impatient with you (especially when nachos are involved), and for that I am sorry. I stand in solidarity with you today for all the mistreated microwaves all over the world.