Speckles and spots on on old gray plate,

white chalk etchings

reaching out in disarray -from chaos alone can they arrange themselves
-- to attain some invisible aim.
From where did they come,
these blackboard scribblings?
What silent chalk figure rests in its center,
guarded by loops and trails:
spaghetti noodles on a petri dish?
Only silence lives here,
all movement is dead
everything is manufactured
-- of protein, of agar, of plastic sterile plates -one world made to benefit another.

This worlds sun is manufactured

like the world it shines upon:
night and day change with the flick of a switch
set by some higher power,
the creator of this world, the destroyer of others.