The whole complex sank toward silence, sank or slunk,
The microorganisms, the host animal, the ideas and other memes.
When do you know your centrifuge has finished spinning? When
You no longer care what happens once it stops, only that it stops?
And if you never reach that point, if you're still grabbing the calligraphy brush
To draw another empty circle, still struggling to apologize, to dictate,
Does it prolong you? Probably not. Life is a dress rehearsal
For the night the whole theater shuts down. This is one of the thoughts
Of the mind that must tear itself away from all the minds
So that it can return its props to all minds, then close the doors of reception
By setting them alight. The burning globe fell in on itself and became
Ashes indistinguishable from the ashes of hospital, palace, or church.
No comments:
Post a Comment