It is necessary
a part of me that I have always seen
the pattern, through the noise
spot trace
of human point
that sticks out through the jammed
disjointed dissonance - the tip
of hint
just barely surfaced,
which connects, if gliding down
sleek surfaces implied
to clue
in grind
and ground
is found
and tried.
From there, crank back the scope, go wide
and spot
the others, next
as like
to like as each
to each, glared bold
in place so deftly set, so
darkling bright. Each
sitting unassuming where
the local picture fuzz and wash
can camouflage its doings there. No
more, though: snap
the lock clicks in
the view takes off
the constellation draws itself,
in all like points picked out
and named (for gods and heroes
of my own design)
and broadcasts fate unstranged.
I spy such puzzle-boxes strewn
through parks, up buildings
in the news, and manufactured
into goods - by careful
application,
dudes
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