While I wind magnetic tape
I accidentally think
and am no longer doing just what I’m doing.

Why does unravelling the reel one way
here
make it turn another way
here?

Does tape do things specifically?
Now,
holding the 1/4” strip in my fingers
and having thought,
I have to consider
tape rules
and anything rules.


I twist the strip
and watch the tape-rules working:
a part further down the reel
has twisted too.
this is the tape’s way of doing.
But this way is like anything
that always happens,
like waiting ending in sleep
or people being inconstant.

The anything rules prove themselves:

If I sleep, I will wake up unfinished.
If I wake up unfinished, I will soon sleep.

The post-instant rules. They are made of death.

Tape rules are made of important stones,
matrimony and it’s consorts,
dream animals,
elected officials.

They come out of the stomach,
out of the hands,
asymmetrical and specific,
resembling you.

They come out right now and right now,
the sense of it unidentical to the knowing it,
the seeing it comported by the sense of it
the understanding not gained but redepicted.


While I wind magnetic tape and think
a yellow light crawls the room.

It is passive-aggressive and runs yolky on the walls and through the plastic
walls of the bottle on the table.

When I recognize who the light is I instantly forget the worthlessness of questions.

Are the walls of the bottle plastic or is the bottle plastic?

Does dissolution happen outside?

What are the rules for how it glints the liquid?
For the rubber band beside on the table
who’s form reminds me of the tape I was winding earlier,
and also of other things
that I won’t say?

Think the rubber band has two sides.
but it has none.