Who’s looking – -or even has time?
A quick glimpse through the spider’s web
to a deceptive blue masking infinity – –
not enough – – but it will do for now.
The ground beneath his chair crumbles
tumbling him into the river.
I watch each grain tremble
then break free – – look, there’s another
and another – – float off like butterflies.
Not a head lifts – –
another mark in their books
no ripple in the pond
I notice that also;
the placid calm grows my unease.
Not that I’m nervous
or a creature of conspiracies,
but patterns built of repeating patterns
engrave their textures on the eye
like the afterimage of the sun
blazes so brightly all else is lost.
It is better not to look – – –
to grub along
head close to the earth
fingernails crack against rock.
Focus on the task before us
and the horrors on the periphery
fade before the onslaught of the mundane.
(August 2001-April 2002)