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the peasant who has no

hope of riches, finds that

he is like someone on

the other side of the

world and he doesn’t

care because he is still

poor, but then nothing

gives him hope so

he decides to love the universe.

The universe doesn’t love him

because it is only stars

and endless specificity.  So,

he

turns to pieces of pigment

and shivering voices, alternate

visions of the past and

intricate scions of the future.  He

is still poor because the

universe decided that it didn’t love him

back.  And then he takes of

his mask and he was a woman the whole time.

Still the universe is the same because

she is poor and even uglier, so

so much uglier.

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