Standing by the ruins of a civilization that shimmered with skilled dark shapes rise over lost conversations, heaped like a plague of phonemes dying under siege: tongues thicken from fantasies of future excavation, air holds its breath.

Where does imagination begin? What signal fires a people to dream of a place that doesn't yet exist, drawing out, shaping a forest of symbols that began a thousand years before Pythagoras, in the geometry of the dead, a vision that leaps synapses for the pleasure of a thought? Extinction was not a concept yet, erosion a missing event in defense of economy and socialized tropes.

Stealthy figures reconnoiter land whose parched lips sign like an ancient bell pealing the sound barrier, healing itself into mutant changes from agonies hewed too deep for analysis: a trail of cockroaches winding through a mimicking legend of sand....

    to Beautiful Town, with the intimate presence of myth swept clean of teratoid shadows and aberrant biologies the breakdown of cordial spaces, maps of misdirection tracing roads engineered so straight dreams would get lost.

Changing Woman, her womb an evolution of riddles inspiring chemical codes to stand as potentially isolated puddles the desert quickly absorbs.