fingertips fingertips mouth

computer monitors are flat skins without mouths. they silently wince when pinched. changing the resolution makes their eyes dilate. computer monitors blink on shut down.

an overcast day muddles surfaces. weak light whitens then darkens porcelain. the clouds sunbathe and turn over to tan their backs. below, we stumble down dark stairs at night.

a music library holds wax recordings of extinct voices. the harmonies and choruses are etched in black vinyl, captured like a wood carving. a needle pricks the wax and sound drips. the scratchy plops collect in amoeba-shaped pools on the floor. when poked, a soft dulcet center yields to the touch.

one dimensional echoes swirl in canyons with indian ghosts. three dimensional echoes bounce off nightclub walls, eroding voices and hearing. a two dimensional echo is a single film frame. 24 echoes per second produce an illusion of movement, catching the eyes attention like a peripheral predator.