interface

It is what you don’t say that troubles: deciding
not to burden me, details bow my spine and
anyway it’s not so far from here to where but

hours are tossed behind us and they become you:
accumulating under eyes: several times a day a message
splits my screen and I’m reminded I have eyes, too

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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