To the Cognoscenti
I. how it all beganů
For thousands of years you is a terrible idea.
Then it rains for eons on terrain
fresh-formed and so hot that never
a drop joins another but both besteam
the imaginary viewer instantly
until the moment fattens drip-drop
and through the door-peeker
that is his lens on the world
a distorted face swells to symbolize
animal force upon the ground
leaning over on the cooling desert
to suck up any puddles. From then on
time has in common with a whole
in your sock that a stitch to begin
and right away you're done.
Someone looking into the window
frames you where you stand
and as you slowly pass
from sight she notices what
you have done here, tumbling
from present to memory. Geometrical
constrained, you come over the hill
giving an effect of motion, of time
of your fear to be displaced.
When her gaze recoils from the window
its vapors are sucked into the room.