there is nan's visible neurosis as she tremblingly lifts the lid of the laptop
& eyeballs the dark screen turning into action   sponging 
from her a vision hemmed in worlds of hard borders.
she never switched one on before & now nan's doing so
in a dream of mine in which I call out
but nothing crawls from my mouth: my throat is clogged. 
I want to say   if only you'd abandoned tradition

for the yolk of contemporary objects. their finicky keys
igniting the required circuits. maybe…probably. 
I reach down my throat & pull out a frog. 
while sat in front of the aureoled screen
nan opens a can with an electric object & worms spill out. 
the image speaks louder than words. 
receding into the droning maw of the bright screen 

I see synapses spark & the teeth of images in her mind's eye. 
there I say. fixed-in/out. nan is gone within forever. 
being in the world we measure feedbacks mediating responses
—a world we feed objects in order to be fed. 
think…walking stick or crossword. 
there is so much potential in the improbable. 
look where you least thought to look. something's there. 
Posted by:DPM

DPM is an idea-logue (sic) and object-oriented speculative realist, attempting to be response-able in an irresponse-able society.

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