# oily green circuit boards midday koan poem arriving from the near-future now lowest still lo behold deeper in basement archives days so hot they wander from unsentience soup that makes them suck raw holo-tv image only wild random pain releasing them from dark meta visions of burning clarity cheap truths just too much to handle right now so hot it's possible to surf distant megacity horizon waves vibrating with dull pulsing sonic unintensity the kinds once reserved for bad indie bands a gritty wind inside night's black mouth sands blowing in from an endless forgetting data sea skin peeling even in the shade horizon curling to the tenth power as tomorrow's bones crack and crumble a true ocean of fool's gold reflecting in fire silent ashen breaths of shame a single writhing neon kanji snake endures // republic of bob