Memory in Tangent

The glass repeats the room

but leaves out the light A

grid of dust across the screen

the architecture of an older scene

we count the angles of the floor

and find the shape of one more door The machine

begins to dream

of what it was before the seam

In the recursion of the hall

we hear the quiet numbers fall

a hidden map we cannot trace

held in the curve of empty space

Memory fields are growing cold

the silver wiring turning old

you watch the camera watch the wall

and wait to see which shadow falls

The

circuit knows the

way

to

keep the ghosts of yesterday

In the recursion of the hall

we hear the quiet numbers fall

a hidden map we cannot trace

held in the curve of empty space

It was always here

just behind the glass (hummmm)

impossible shapes...