shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

K.C. Lichty

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Meditation on astral projection

This intransigent button launches my
self out of myself, a billion fragmented
bits into space. I am no longer—
a conductor of my intentions, here nor there, inside
this space or that space, inside of me or you—
but rather, a send bar frozen in time,
inside the ellipsis of your conversation bubble.

Co-mingled in stasis, my 1 rubs against your 0,
the friction magnetic in the vacuum of space,
drawing others, sucking them up
in the digital nebulous of itself, birthing strings
like knotted twine to hang in the atmosphere