We know there have not always been telephones.
From the very beginning– the beginning of time–
Primordial slime,
A slime in time with a handy man hanging out,
A hand on an ear, or a cheek cradled in a bliss,
Soft cotton is often a bother to kiss,
A child who loves, born of cotton bottom, struggles to —
No,
Only the beginning of time, a pure white stallion, running trim, upon the beaches of the earth, looking for a receiver, with perforations, perforations for reverberations, as if to connect, to spill the beach with
Many a slip, the cup and the lip, cradle a phone, near a shoulder bone, twixt an ear, so as to hear, in a sea shell, the shout of the waves, the neigh of wild horses, the neigh reign of the regnant,
Beach stallion lightning.
Spam of Human Affection 
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