Events #1: Invisibilia

What did we do before we started writing

I’ve made sketchbooks and collected thoughts and notes

but without these things

where do our words go

Perhaps they evaporate into a sky-bound miasma

still in the air

still in my breath

but invisible to my eye

But then I can’t help but ask myself

the question of an unimaginative child:

If i can’t see it

does it even exist?

—As if I live only in the sloshing waves

of optic fluid behind glass 

As if I am just a man

in a boat

inside an eye

As if I am not the skin and the ears

and the liver

and the bones

or the hair

slowly falling from my head.


I forget just how long that has been happening

because I forget I am also the time

evaporating from my skin

because time passes like a kind of heat

that we sometimes

happen to feel

instead of see

Kyle Studstill