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Satiated with negation, in a world that doesn't start and end in cataclysm, every great great uncle's great great nephew is an end and not a means. I plateaued yesterday and may plateau again today. The last ash in the urn will window-dress ten thousand. Subsequent spokesmodels specify a spiral staircase then reality kicks in. Cross cultivating anti-missiles, nibble on the gristle while ye may. Take heed: when tiddlywinks are outlawed only outlaws will have tiddlywinks. The first man's affirmation is the second man's negation. Perpendicular to ecstasy, beribboned entertainers suffer. One aim of the game is to bring life to time. Control groups, fish in barrels, calculated gradients, reoriented and took steps. The dreamtime is the perfect opportunity to nurse a grievance.

Heikki Huotari
The First Temporal Echo

A wind sweeps an echo over
Lemaîtreville. Townsfolk clutch
their hats and sense premonitions

of déjà vus. They flinch at railroad
sparks and the raising odor
from the approaching train's ghost.

They witness feathers crack the sky,
where shadows burn into a ground,
and people wear masks and cough.

Villagers duck and run to the well.
Kaluza Klein opens her telescope
notes the crack, the new stars,

and stars in absentia. She plots
each star shifting blue. She measures
the ghost with a temporal accelerator.

The future arrives as scheduled -
Lemaîtreville, the up-and-coming
cold war village with echoes from

Enola Gay to the Berlin Wall.
Lemaîtreville suspends tomorrows.