A glass lantern with painted sides, pierced by modern light and sunbeams, cannot break into laughter. Temporal tides struggle to prepare for their next dreams. Hidden green portraits attempt to avoid mimesis, because inimitability tends to produce contemplation & clouds. The angel toyed with a virtual spectrum, economies of blue, but inevitable reconciliation, abstract in autumn, emptied the nests and branches of eggs and leaves. We look at grayscale maps, and there is no bottom in this cavern. The persistence of failure quickly unweaves. A metallic windstorm and two mountainous ships poise to kiss one another in the newspaper’s lips. Accumulated memory –– the catastrophic avalanche of math –– knocks the electric radio into the bath. First, the gravedigger makes a hole. The explorer dies to see what is there. Without an umbrella, the preacher comes. As the coffin drops into the earth, the moon is covered in flies. Sobbing and clumsy, the mourners advance to the sound of drums. In exchange for the coffin, the earth extrudes a stone. From a disintegrating orbit, we attempt to read the shimmering text, the substance of myth cannot be alone. History of color – memory of space – roots of a coffin seed.