Naturalist renderings of genitalia, lavish, on cell walls,
brain, not jail, and scores: four lines vertical, one that falls.
I ask the Ineffable to contact me if possible in hieroglyphs,
make of all things visible a rebus whose meaning's clear and calls.
A downed electric line zigzags in water,
In the grade-school bathroom a boy named Michael
prints his name in shit in stalls.
Insert name here
among the scrawls.
As reflected in his later pitiful GRE scores in the subject, Aaron Anstett (firstname.lastname@example.org) recalls fondly using his math textbook to slide down the steep, snowy hill behind Wing Park Elementary.