You hardly have a face.
You’ve barely managed this.
No one’s computer made you.
But someone and something configured this moment.
Or nothing at all.
There’s a fight between the atheists and religiousites
in the hall.
Food, protein particles, fruit bowls and punches
thrown all around.
Fallen on the floor are worlds discarded and more
places for the shadowy existences to escape to.
In this kind of moment the sacred humanness must have
– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin