The map waits in the sinew. The road in the excrement. Long hikes through the woods. Where deaf men hear the most. And timid tigers learn how to hunt. Dots in the skin draw vague pictures. With absent fingers.
I told the genie I had no wishes to make. Just a day or two choose from. In which it's safe to die. I asked him if he could tell me when. But he said it was still undetermined.
Rank molecules distract the atom from its path. Diligent math is a faulty barometer at best. We are here. But where is this. We are cannibals, but who shall we eat next.
The secret that the science will never tell you. The physics that we cannot correlate. Is desire. Is skin. Is matter.
This much. No more.
The universe with its clown face on. Tumbling out of its tiny car. Everyone claps and then it's gone.
What never came out? What didn't fit inside?
Monday
3/02/2009 12:11:00 AM
| Life Poems |