This thin lidded metal slab
below my fingers pulses mad
and imperceptibly hums.

The sum of our drive and dreams
cut from aluminum and written in silicon
and yet we are not done

The mind is vast and each jewel set in Indra’s net
has one thousand faces for every soul
the web a thousand sockets for every node

Were a hundred and one keys struck
and had this world the best of luck
not in a million years would we subsume
The breadth of the hume

and spirit would be none the less
if under different circumstance
we were to map her infinity

Heavy lidded eye
which lays upon my thigh —
You are my offspring strange and true
I am in charge of you:
My kind & I have writ your mind.
You are my own
you are my beast
Among my friends I count you, least