Foretelling

The tower of Babel crumbled
close to Heavens Gate
under the weight of words
being tossed across
crooked beams of Meaning,
colliding with brute force
like wrecking balls or
oblong Egos
characters fell
one by one.

The virus spread viciously
devouring breathless bodies
whose lungs collapsed
in fevered white surrender
making trespassers doubt
ownership.
Perhaps by taking flight,
the wingless mammals
mistook their own shadows for
Angels
of Mercy.

Maybe, like Icharus
we flew too close to the sun
singeing and singing our victory
songs. Hymns and hers
breaking the speed of light.
He resurfaces atop the rubble
of Babel
only spread his sickly self destructive
wings around the globe
suffocating us with immortal
whims and wicked winds.

None would dare say
aloud
it sounded like
lightning
a curse
or zero in zero chance
our earthly eyes
would adjust to this light.




Artwork by Sergey Solomko (1855-1928) 'Icarus' Dream' in Public Domain. 

Latently

Just yesterday I noticed
somewhere else
the present moment, and all the past
for that matter,
always held the future
simultaneously
rolling it in palm
and under tongue.

These multiverses,
Baoding balls,
hum like crystal lips
and harmony comes out
making the individual notes
indivisible.

Presently,
today, Wednesday,
all rolls along in a blur,
small talk keeps time
separated from the thing itself
and it can only be tasted or felt
one side at a time
just like listening.

Today,
I read a little poem
about transformation
or metamorphosis,
it seems we have always known
these things take time.

Then again, I half expected it
to move too fast.
Sometimes shapeshifts
were mere projections
of light.




Painting by Nelson A. Primus (1842-1916) 'The Fortune Teller' c. 1898 SCAD Museum of Art [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Putting it to Get it Together

This world 
was all pretty patterns and preparation.
We made
sense with these,
common and collective.

Why we cache and stash
something for our selves-
this is a game-keep away-such as
saving some sunny day money
you hope to forget about-but 
keep counting it in
the back-end.

Why we puzzle and play,
riddling and competing for solutions
and winners
between you and I-Or-
there are losers. Must be
unable to connect the dots,
incapable of collecting thoughts-

holy buckets, walking in labyrinths
following threads of logic
tangled up in theoretically.

It is the mystery that moves us,
to interpretation
without reason. Carry on. 

"And I wanted to examine that horoscope once more and to see its pattern, no matter how fantastic or catastrophic the prediction."

-Walter Mehring (from 'The Lost Library')

Featured artwork By Staecker (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.