the yoga mat is missing from its rolled-up place

what that entails, and what comes after

it returns unchanged


I travel inside the sound of the missing 

yoga mat, lost 

in another dimension and a sound 

that no longer exists. I 

am nothing =


username forgotten password reset password email username (not the email) new password


cookies won’t let me download my own document

print the form to sign the form 

scan the form and send the form 


you may find yourself in the waiting room but they will let you in soon


it took me one and a half months to feel 

comfortable sitting in this ‘waiting chair’. before, 

I would stand, shift from foot 

to foot 


I can’t see the captions but poem is palm

Seismosis, size moses 


a gap 


where the air conditioning feels 

colder if I press my body against 

the poem-space, seismosis-sized.

my palm is a blurb.


Here is a start for the blurb:


Let me know if it’s on the right track.

post-work hypnotherapy 

Copying 1 item from Day to Day


post-sounds TMS: lifts regurgitate 

patients and doctors. I am on the ground 

floor, the lift’s innards moving skyward

so high the elevator remixes 


the passport is in airplane mode

without recognising the century


or the zapping clack of the magnet 

on my head. the magnetic fields tried 

to turn on the underactive circuits – my depression 

did not get better


after we are ambushed by a cyclist

our claw hands carry the tension home



Footnote: this poem was created using the Between-the-action constraint as the starting point. The title makes reference to Lynn Sachs’ film A Month of Single Frames (2019). The line ‘what that entails, and what comes after’ is from Raymond Carver’s poem Radio Waves (1984). The line ‘without recognizing the century’ is from Charles Simic’s poem Shadow Publishing Company (1995).