No Explanation Here

My presences arrive unbidden in the afternoon:

random as the quantum bits I must assume
they are – but possibly evincing probabilities

of interaction, even threading through like family –
not unlike the heretofore unfathomed German
cousins I just learned I have in Hamburg

on the Internet. Internetting ranges like the spray
of the Unconscious: jacked-off cyber semen
yearning without aim, and breeding everything.

Sometimes unity will not dissuade itself

from coalescing. I do not know what in it blesses,

curses or coerces. I do not know what

Purpose is, and yet depictions of a thing
that isn’t not like God abound. By now you’ve left
the room: you will have found more measure,

sense, direction, pleasure elsewhere. No
explanation here. My presences arrive unbidden
in the afternoon. I doubt I’ll know more soon.









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