BRINK

Glaciers are melting and pushing themselves off their shelf/bed down into the seas, chunk upon chunk to become simple ice cubes climate stirred into the maëlstroms of planet building, forever at work, never really stooping down towards all those microscopic species, funguses spreading along energy's rivers, themselves vehicles raining down from the sun irradiating through our cloudy space;

We are all but fractalized elements forever attached into this planet's tapestry of evolution; Ulysses never comes back to stay, for the winds of change keep pushing him through what claims standstill as reality; he just flows through for a nano second of synchronicity, a kiss of death, relative to the fact that all which touches surrealistically does so all the while flowing through;

This monday has been declared national holiday, for whom? Here are two machine operators crushing the cinema down, all the while extracting with a huge magnet the metal rods now twisting, coming out, called out forward