morning carbon leaves the mouth as foam
It touches the glass, becomes a small bright bead, and forgets whether it was air or ink.
depth 00 / dawn foam
a carbon day underwater
charcoal, kelp, shell, ink, breath, sediment — one impossible day rising through tea-colored water.
It touches the glass, becomes a small bright bead, and forgets whether it was air or ink.
Brown-black minerals feather into soft diagrams; each arrow curls like seaweed in a lab notebook.
Calcium rooms hum under old aquarium light while trapped dots orbit like plankton around a carbon ring.
depth 24 / reef archive
carbon changes costumes: fossil leaf, bath bead, tea stain, shell whisper.
Checker shadows slip beneath acetate, misregistered by the tide.
A smudge remembers the seabed before it remembers the flame.
depth 40 / graphite night
The dark pool rests. The day loosens its shell, its ink, its breath, and lets every bead rise beyond the glass.