Approximate Ladders of Resonances in a Semi-Infinite 1D Crystal – S.G. Mallett

January 5, 2026

The gas station from your sylvan
vision sells what you stock it with.
You are on the roof by the pool,

getting your stretch on. You’re sorting
protein golems by their flavors
as you relax on the stretching

rack. Consillient orange shapes
spraypainted on the loadbearing
wall. Take it as a grain of salt,

the mass nouns and the nouns golems
gerund as you get your stretch on.
You shone a blacklight on the ex-

posed brick. Your stigmata move in
and out of view, you wrote and sub-
sequently deleted. You would

write to you from your stretching rack,
you would write yourself back later,
head in hands, via dictation.

Where am I, you’d think as you’d wake.
You’re in your remote control car,
scrying via rearview mirror,

and nausea’s contingency
and Janus-shaped. Every thing is.
You are on the roof by the pool.

I didn’t mean it, you dictate
and what the fiber golems lack
in grammar’s made up in syntax.

And shouldn’t you deserve to feel?
Your software update’s in progress.
Sacrifice zones. Paper beats stone.

The permittivity of free
space’s contingent on what’s in stock.
You spray grains of salt. You’re half nude

on the roof of the gas station
just finishing her up, you wrote
and subsequently deleted.