Recharger
- You are even where you aren’t: viral
- benevolence, cataclysm
- in well-made shoes forging tap scars
- on the Real’s deep carpet—I
- open a book and it becomes
- the doffed glisten of a top hat,
- becomes a rabbitoid fury
- startling patrons from preposterous drinks.
- Look around—What fallible machines
- we pilot through furious swerves
- and soft clearings as the clock clips
- wing after wing. We are bound
- by failure, by tarnished lockets
- and torn photographs—
- On our trek through this tunnel
- overgrown with spoons
- licked into blunt spears, the intercessions
- of various music are stars
- breathing luminously across strings of river.
- Energy stays put
- and colossally doesn’t.
- You get to work on time.
- Time can be anything.
- Anything starts to matter.
- The first step is such a wound
- but there you variously are.
- Even the iceberg looks like you
- coming down from the stage
- to gently embrace us.
- Sequoias bolt from our hearts.
- Silk roses flicker from our palms
- where before there were none.