If you turn on an old tap, 
slow degree by degree, 
the water changes shape. 
My mind is that shape. 
In the beginning, 
all things connect. 
The alpha and the fish, an unseen novelty – 
and that vortex of the new draws us in together. 
And Cézanne. 
And conic sections. 
Or a sphere of light wrapped in vines. 
Epigenetic culture randomly mutates 
an immaterial hive-mind, 
because domination takes without giving, 
eradicates partnership, 
humanity. 
Here a reconvergence, 
but don’t turn back and look. 
Poetry has created fiction, 
and fiction science, 
and not for the first time – 
a transmundane moment 
before fragmentation. 
Mist, smoke, cloud, 
an unknown waterfall. 

for Serres and McKenna

First published 2018 in "Selection"