at this moment, instantly
dirt dug deep into a gap absence holed out from the land (land is dirt) from the earth (the whole planet, no just this space outside the window, floor to ceiling window, outside of which a big hole, before that there was some concrete sidewalk and grass and something else maybe that doesn't matter now b/c it doesn't exist... does it matter in memory whether there was a bench or a garbage can or who walked here and when once?). two holes, really, large and small, the former remains of or the potential for. a reconstruction in dreaming stages. in spring at least this dirt like mud or soft, spongy, saturate-able, with or without light applied appropriately.
a series of red-covered texts lines the walls opposite the inside of the large window and, i imagine, filled with the ideas for the construction of whole worlds (earths) of possible pieces of space (in dirt form).
