at a letterbox strip of life, trying to make sense of the universe. There’s so much data on display, the vast library of a world with its words in motion. This house I visit on the granite island has a garden walled by trees and they make their own sway and whisper as the sea breezes rush through; I’ve heard that same air swell over twenty summers and heard it nowhere else. This heartbeat maze is well-supplied of variety and I’m mindful of the particles, the Lucretian molecules streaming down beyond counting, the call of the wind in one island corner where I’ve tilted my head to gaze at the trembling leaves. And all those other islands to explore. Fingers reaching out beyond the wire, stretching to feel a different air.
