Smeared across half a moment, or half a second:
It could be Britney, judging now approximately.
It could also be the troll-like drifter that fixes a Saturn on my street.
He pushed a van with Lord of the Rings.
Now he hoists a car aloft, the weight spreads through his abdomen.
She moves through the crowd to a clearing, the clearing that she's earned, we think.
Her being rests here.
Or we dream this, anyway. We are willing to dream for others to get ourselves
off our own backs.
Engage the Flash!
It drapes, and sometimes lovingly, the flashed-on person's surface.
A storm approaches, and i cannot perceive which god-
A storm approaches, it is summer.
A billowed, yearning radiance, a dust of dew,
the spring green charging up and up--
It could be Britney, Christina, Rihanna. It could be Hillary.
Or now is it Zeus or Zog, the troll or God?
He hammers on a planet-carriage, sweeps its guts and fingers its holes.
Chaos rips us into baby beasts.
We've hunted too long.
Now Earth is Covered.
Tomorrow we will find an entity.