Written by: Cesar Cantu

Compressed predator instincts
Exist in the most primitive dimension

Textile complex of nerves
Mixture of nebulas and herbs
Blinking imperfect echoes

Is it a crop of static points?
Yet there’s no sign of growth
No sprouting into a G minor code
A multi-fingered park
For a suicide octagon roll?

Most probably
Horde of wormholes on the wall
Dementia brought cheese mentality

Expose your paper gestures
And fold
Extreme fisherman-frontal jump
Into the scribbled reflections of
A starving point