let me talk chaos theory and imaginary numbers
that is my element like when my boy standing

on his chair between us so we could no longer
see said matt-daddy matt-daddy you plucked

pork gristle and half-stifled laughter from your
teeth i needed no mandlebrot no vintage motorola

no telling details no real-as-life vectoring
noise silence beneath noise silence beneath silence

a field

in the late afternoon dryness i could no longer
eat we scraped crops from our anthill imaginary

number

a black chop on the Bosphorus tells me it took
more than Drunken Byron for the crossing