"The Magnitude of the Procession" is a poem I wrote while being accosted by hundreds of flies during a move to a new apartment that clearly had an infestation problem. I have never liked bugs, and the experience solidified that for me. But in an attempt to mentally address my fears, I created this poem as a kind of ode to the beauty of bugs. Since I originally wrote the poem, it has seen a variety of new iterations in the form of calligraphy and traditional letterpress. It will be part of a limited edition collection of five poems, each printed with handset type on a letterpress and bound in individual booklets. The booklets will then contained in a handmade box.

The Magnitude of the Procession

The smooth buzz of insects

Sounds like the whirring of mechanisms,

A supercomputer processing

Vast computations and electrical deisms.

They crawl lightly over the precious cargo,

Their feet like gentle fingers

Caressing the soft skin of the underbelly.

There is no sound, save for the insects.

No gentle intake of air, no sweeping expulsion.

The eyes are wet with milky dew,

Like glass marbles dipped in motor oil.

The gaze is opaque and open,

And I see my reflection in its serenity.