Sit in the centre.
Evert each atrium
aorta, ventricle.
Press wrinkled skins
to the newsprint for transfer.

Instigate cracks in the glass I have blown.
Let CO2 words fizzle out of the fissures,
dissolve into stratus, cirrus;
Drown in crisp air and damp moonlight.

Do nothing.


Except
know my alchemy turns you to symbols
our dramas to whimsical rhythm
and prose


Or, conversely,
know nothing.

10/04/2007

Posted on 10/04/2007
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia