20 years

this is the hum that will take us there
background now, the throbbing operation

past is all here, but future depends
on this humming, absent calibration

reality, direction isn't fair
when you consider possibilities

as I cut this wake through soup or glass
what will be thrown upon the surfaces?

as I etch lines in this negative
who on the other side works against me?

I see twenty years of piss flying,
one clear brick of present with yellow waves.