The pupa collaged its rust. It sought a new hum. Renamed soot hid in the drifts of its skin. It got microphone mind. It plumed.
The mirage’s antonyms congested our antennae. Its ions addressed our grains. It said, The history of a stem is another stem. We reified our streams. We removed our atavistic lice with chips of flint. Isotopes eroded the scales from our skin.
Whenever the diagrammed ear relents, forgetting its sound is the pupa’s purpose. Bulbous, twinned in the grasp, an O eggs itself, snowing.
Eric Baus is the author of The To Sound (Wave Books, 2004), Tuned Droves (Octopus Books, 2009), Scared Text (Colorado State University Press, 2011), and The Tranquilized Tongue (City Lights, forthcoming 2014). His series of commentaries on poetry audio recordings, Notes on PennSound, were recently published in Jacket2. He lives in Denver.