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temporal escape, i transition beyond my home of more than half a decade—angered, confused, and lost—dysfluency in motion. urbanscapes suck on magic’s nape and it is the ecological sorcerer’s work to bridge gaps between concentrated human communities and their ecological sustenance. it is brave work to leave your home to do the thing everyone else is too metabolized to do—too fast to move through.
like music, i vibrate to the open time of my laptop left behind—a retrograde miracle—the universe’s version of reverse production—vocals on tape. sutured, religion as faith in leaping—melting into unknowns—preeminent possibility surprisingly itchy.
i moved for equitable distribution in flow. like swales, i latch as a slug to topographic contours slowing down rain water’s travel, healing wet fet, and making sure we all get to drink. dug for beauty and tree habitat, i’m a pathway to pleasure, aching—colored in swarthy hues and water science. imagine a wider spread of magic energy—a warping regional network instead of a bloodthirsty core.
the parts of us missing elsewhere, a voyage for the wreckage, clickbait at the center of our collective riddance, i hold both the page slippage of your choosing and the elongated beckonings of my beyond-this-body-and-lifetime-purpose. though weary, i perform.