anthropological hypotheses

Take me to the next planet
The one where humans are hieroglyphs
Our historic actions nothing more than arcane squiggles
Blithely engineered to indicate, it was something like that, once

Let my barenaked interiority be harvested
Not through my soul, but on my sleeve
Frozen in a performance of pattern
Divorced and devoid of all time and temperature

Take me to the place where what I tried to be cannot be likened
Rather than attempt to be deciphered, merely erased
And if this shape mimics that, it is a perfect copy
The typeface, sans flourish or serif, of only God's hand

Take me to the next page, empty of imprints from the last
Take me wrapped in thicker tissue paper
Take me like a ribbon of transferable ink
Make me so impermanent and iterative

On the next planet, no one sings anymore
It is only the occupation of stones to vibrate
It is a world where the dimensions of shape and color collide
It is a world where you cannot be unwanted

In the future waters, there is perfect clarity
Gone are the intimate layers of erosion
Nothing can ever be overemphasized
And no one has to study to understand