I opened my ears and the stars came down
speakers of languages I once called exotic
but now call data
streamed like a starfield
across reams and pages
of luminescent notebooks
howled
(like so many monstrous experiments)
the Ancient Breath of Dissertation
and sighed a degree into being.
By degrees, I pass from this starfield to the next,
the ancient howling, dying, mutely speaking a deeper horror:
the revision.
