Neon Dust Falling Out of Time by Jeff Bagato

Consumed by wind 
in its full fury, sucked
dry, powdered, dusted,
each grain of ash picked
out from the others and absorbed
by new winds, tossed until
it turns to smoke; all things
will smoke in the end
as the universe dissolves,
cinder by pale cinder,
until every particle comes clean
of the others, vibrating alone
like a jukebox in a tornado
on the cold surface of a wasted 
moon—but that moon 
is now dust, and the neon 
record machine is now
dust, and the music is dust,
but the song lifts up 
from the shining voices 
of those cinders floating 
on a space-time sea—
the tingling of destruction,
like some lost mollusc
joy when no longer forming
a pearl but becoming one,
flesh going hard and smooth
and gray as electric carrion,
or just neon dust
falling out of time;
there are these
things we can’t know,
and that’s all our dreams
are good for

A multi-media artist living near Washington, DC, Jeff Bagato produces poetry and prose as well as electronic music and glitch video. Some of his poetry has appeared in Empty Mirror, Futures Trading, In Between Hangovers, Otoliths, Your One Phone Call, and Zoomoozophone Review. His published books include Savage Magic (poetry), And the Trillions (poetry), The Toothpick Fairy (fiction), and Computing Angels (fiction). A blog about his writing and publishing efforts can be found jeffbagato.com.