Roboto, Masters of the Universe (2026)

Everything begins to look around.

- Tomas Tranströmer

Weeks go by.

Night comes slowly.

The moths settle on the windowpane:

small pale telegrams from the world.

- Tomas Tranströmer

Context

Tomas Tranströmer

Look at the grey tree. The sky has run

through its fibers down in the earth—

only a shrunk cloud is left when

the earth has drunk. Stolen space

is twisted in pleats, twined

to greenery. —The brief moments

of freedom rise in us, whirl

through the Parcae and further.

Silence slowly spiraling up has risen

here from earth’s recesses 

- Tomas Tranströmer

Waking up is a parachute jump from dreams.

- Tomas Tranströmer

you stretch from east to west

i go north to south

this is also how a plus symbol may appear

- sumita beethi 

Testing limits

Sneha Khaund 

Take a moment

Stretch it like gum

Wrap it over your back

Pull your arms across your stomach

Spread them out to see how far you extend.

s \ l \ i \ c \ e \ m \ y \ m \ i \ n \ d \ i \ n \ t \ o \ p \ i \ e \ c \ e \ s

a n d w a n d e r t h r o u g h r e a l i t y

     //hyper-

     //hyper-

     //seizurely

leisurely

leisurely

- rushati mukherjee

I'm glad the water does not move 

Under the colourless ice of the river

- Anna Akhmatova

Day is stopping.

Everything I am feels distant or blank

as the opulent rays pass through me,

distant as action is from thought,

or language is from all things desirable

in the world, when it does not deliver

what it promises and pathos comes instead—

the same pathos I feel when I tell myself,

within or without valid structures of love:

I have been deceived, he is not what he seemed—

though the failure is not in the other,

but in me because I am tired, hurt or bitter.

- Henry Cole

a man alone fills a void with words,

not to be consoling or point to what is good,

but to say something true that has body,

because it is proof of his existence

- henry cole

When a man leaves, he leaves looking

For more languages than there are

Tongues.

- Jericho Brown 

O God, my mind 

Stretches asunder on this merciless rack

Of imagery! 

- Edna St. Vincent Millay