reckoning raze he says he's never seen anything like it. the film that's come unspooled from its cassette is orange and opaque. it looks like a fruit roll-up. he doesn't eat it. he lifts it to the light and reads the dynamic range. these are the last songs written by a boy who could have been me if i was born into a different body. faint transmissions from a friendly ghost reduced to microscopic magnetized particles on a plastic ribbon, begging to be digitized. someday this will be all that's left of me. if i'm lucky. 260726 what's it to you? who go blather from