So, do you think you can cook,
inside of the jar like I am can?
Math, is quantum digressed,
when bent back from the hole.
Mutable space pressed flat,
spiral out, to unfold, a grasp..
Carbon jars, hold all that is you.
Darkest mass in the center,
fingers all grasp, when cold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem