Wednesday, May 16, 2012

One Mode

turning natural time into stories
the mind can't stop changeable
parts click together like Legos
reiterate nothing already known

processing one mode or locus
the rest fade to inactive hidden
grope comes up empty pockets
of panic decorate this interior

a pill or natural stones deflect
invariable wiggling indifferent
rhythms just perceptible finally
fade into other people entirely