earthworms and wormholes
feckless and pink
as thin as a child’s finger
or the end of a pencil,
only unbreathing but
alive, they slip between
lost yesterdays and find
the time where time reigned
no cortex, thoughtless
patten to and from this
new world built and none
the wiser or perhaps
wisest there is, even
brainless they found
the secret before we did
they drag themselves back
and forth bringing fragments
of days on their accordion
bodies, narrow and
transcendental, too small
to see how huge of a distance
they travel, across the universe
and back before the rain begins