And everywhere is another center

The Scroll (X)

X.

The Scroll was made to poke your pate
into its heaven of rhizomatic threads
of hotly contested, sidereal discussion.
A cosmic scope too vast to situate.
To be in the middle of a conversation
and lose oneself at its center
and everywhere is another center.
Thinking takes the opposite direction.
Too microscopic, it turns quantum,
decoheres and passes through everything,
becomes too left of the cerebrum,
so obsessed with finding, it’s up scrolling
late at night, past sleep, for what, for what?
To chart uncountable constellations?

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The Scroll

I - Tell them there’s nothing left of the tribes of the Internet

II - Decorous thoughts strung from profiles, posts nailed to a slat

III - The man alone at his computer

IV - As it was written, so is it literal

V - I have the feeling nothing online is meant for me

VI - What ambrosia fills the timeline’s cup!

VII - My personality, my pharmacy

VIII - We watch them watch themselves on screen

IX - Is it to the future or the flood our hopes are sped?