If these things are somehow
a matter of precision
and will wither in
the light of wan retention.
Thoughts like heavy
black steel blocks fall out
of your head. A litter
of exacting standards
unfulfilled by bulbous strands
of weld joints;
somehow alive. Somehow
vicious fungoid, holding
things together by keeping
sides apart, and joining
anyway. A rule—unseen—
of outcomes meted out unevenly.
Which masonic-minded fellow
extricated in some feat this
brashly anti-human ruleset
and replicated it in glass
as a scientific model
of duress, for teaching.
