WHAT IS THIS?
ventured
down to the optometrist
to serious upgrade
my glasses
what good is it
having a lover with tattoos
if you are
no longer able
to decypher tiny symbols,
read the fine print?
but, wait a second,
what the Hell is this?
a glade of
mirrors?
a field
of whispers?
somehow into
something uncanny I
must have
strayed,
lost
my way
and now suddenly
rising up out of nowhere
a confection
of a city
arms stetching up, or
might they not
be tentacles?
city as cephalopod
attempting to
pull down the sky?
Raising the question
as to how many fingers I need exactly
to count
to infinity, climb
every mountain,
bust every bad binary
that limits your
and my
thinking
(what passes
for thinking)
and, at this late stage, as
we wheel
each other out
what codes
nested within codes, wheels
within wheels, gears
attached to gears
need to
crack the lot, haul up
the works
from the depths
every legend of our time
prehistory sublime.
,
