when three dimensions collapse to two
and geometry won't get you though
shadows on terra, take a pyramid in the ear
everything floats eventually, lose your fear.
"These words don't make me a poet, these Eyes make me a poet."
There's a cube god
(it seems like a cube
but gods are hard to see:
but if it would turn it might not be)
that's stuck in the field
that brown fertile field where grew the gods
or is god coming to land
to plant self down
inter-karma, a rest between
eons?
Dali in a Sombrero visits me from his ectoplasmic throne in surrealism's cathedral.
"Look at my paintings!" he cries, slightly desperate, almost annoyed.
"I do, I do look at your paintings!" I reply.
Then, silence.
A wall of ether mistakes itself for the Grand Canyon. Beyond the rim, no one dares leap.
"Fuck it!" I shout, "Dali himself told me to jump!"