Thursday, April 01, 2010

random numbers

Random Numbers, darkmatter

The dice have wings. They are little insects of chance, scared away by a sudden movement, a wreckless decision. I see gamblers running around with oversized nets, distended surfaces of hope whose holes gape as they scythe the air.

The dice rest on the flat of my hand and for a moment they are still. Then I cup them between my palms and they start to buzz. To shake and sting. Little stabbing pains in my skin. I let them go.

There is a swarm of dice now, stripping the pleasant green certainties of leaves. A probable desert is all that remains on this land. I hide somewhere between and one and thirty-six.