Spencer Selby


Second order radiating miniature jungle. Sun spotted insect wind cheering logos staggered grace. The hum of electric moth forest moving through polished glass. The glass upgraded to fossil rarely witnessed. The trees reproduced in metamorphic province of night approaching. A gravitational field assuming the witness can escape vacuum eye of unknown species. An infinite repetitive dream edge around which shadows spurt horrendous logic. The air is choked by machinery of remote control. A woman gazes at her reflection cast in a puddle of black tears. She recalls events from a previous life: a childhood with no leverage, school of rash autumn and decades given over to protection of a modified beau.