Dividing this minute in half,
watching each part grow
like a starfish half to a whole
the original size of the one
but now two, and each of these
doubled and multiplied out
in a sequence that has no end
until one of these moments is entered
like a time machine
or a movie screen
to another dimension:

    A white hut thatched with orange
    fronds.  Inside, cinnamon-thighed
    in that yellow green light,
    not yet asleep
    not quite awake,
    she untangles her hair.

She is in no hurry.

She knows you can make the time,

    can divide the time,
    can expand the time.

You can enter whenever you want to. 
The moment is yours.

 

Hear it:

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