We opened box upon box

Of culturally wrapped natural material

Allowing the sediments

Of your fragmented collection

To pollenize the ruin in the make

Of our (con)temporary hive mind

We layed out all of our perceptions

On a thousand broken plateaus

In an effort to connect the dots

We puzzled them into an imagery

That felt like a bad compromise

With Deleuze as our tour guide

The rhizome unfolded

An incomplete data set

Set out to date

A point in time forever lost