A Sense of the World as an Entity

Babies are born
and one after the other
crawl through the internet.
Their laughter
in huge in halls is
made out of names, their
bodies experiments of chance.
We farm them in hydraulic
busses non-stop
one way,
terrible one way to the Midwest,
the nothing land of rust,
egos scooped out from some giant marrow ball
and plunged into them,
and flattened out.
Planes are inserted into their hearts, their
sounds are numbers made by tongues
that are just
fleshy wedges of time.