I Like a Loud Focus

When I see the tree branches bunch together,
like ribs, I see the concavity of the whole,
the closed, knobby cylinders meld to a hollow hall,
yet I cannot say anything, there is nothing here to hold.

As I convert everything to my screen,
I marvel its enrapture,
forgetting how I miss the smell of vector fields,
but as my eyes blur the vivid panel,
I rest my case in black cool.

When you hear numb repetition in the murmuring music,
I see progressive tunnels of pulsing stripes,
as you sense it is time to move on,
I'm just settling in,
comfortable when time has passed by our words threefold.