… and truths confused.

By J. K. McDowell

March 2016

 

I have eaten my imagination by mistake.

Healer, tell me how does soul mending work?

This is a wounding before “once upon a time.”

 

Leap but do not expect the net to appear.

That extra day last month set you back weeks.

An apocalypse planner is rarely reliable.

 

I suppose the anger is from a zigzag mix

Of emptiness and enchantment. Freezer burn,

These leftovers, even warmed, are unfit to eat.

 

Tonight the call goes out cryptically universal.

Touching everyone and impacting a few.

Spirit fingers tipped with invisible sparklers.

 

Mealtime, the woodpecker hammers the oak, a distant

Yet reassuring sound. Hallowed echoes and

Elsewhere dinner conversation dissolves in anguish.

 

James, this is an asymmetrical voyeurism.

Infection and conjuring, touched at a distance.

Dances of windows, mirrors and truths confused.

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