That dot of light,

on the television,
right after you
turn it

Align with the single star
boxed in the mighty voice

jackpot orbs and cubes
fill black cashmere sacks with glowing
blue brims

we remove the mirrored funnel,
open the beaten and stamped package
wrapped in copper.
smear cobalt across our palms.

snippets of paper crinkles
feet shuffling sand, on wood,
on granite,
a guttural wail
of shuddering light rails with
teeth mashing.

What worlds exist through
the pinhole?

Did you ever place your pupil
flat the screen?

Just your memory now.