20th

When a man looks for continuity

he starts with simple things–
radio waves, jibs,
felt-tip markers.

He looks for dirty coffee
on cold mornings
and icy banks.

He sings the alphabet
in women’s names.

Slowly, the fall of humanity
begins to dawn on him
and he sees a way out—

through the foam
of modern architecture,
the pixel fury,
the unmiraculous coil
of raw math.