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《dreamclot ~ poetry》pattern completion

a slab of light underdoor interrupted by shadows—

a key turns in the keyhole.

at dawn only a lone dog barks at the moon

but by night all the dogs bark at the moon

and the professor still audaciously asks how

can life come from not-life.

a tear treks up the face of wolf-mountain

swallowing a sunspot— the mysore sandal soap

slips from my grip and spins on the purple-tiled

floor of my bathroom and i watch it like vera rubin

watched the spirals of andromeda, or maybe like

perseus watched selfish freedom in her curse-chains,

with the mug in my hand being the gorgon's head.

but i don't want to turn anything into stone

i just want to convert everything to water

and when then the tunnel of time gets flooded

where will be the proverbial light at the end go

to literalize itself. it has to come to us, right?

if yes, we'll teach it a lesson for neglecting us,

for pushing the human word into the noise of the world.

but that'll take time but i have no time now.

i have to get ready for college. hand the soap

and mug the water. get dressed and go listen

to a lecture on understanding poetry that, if nothing

else, proves that einstein was right about the relativity

of time, and maybe even confirms the theory of reincarnation

because, trust me, that lecture lasts longer than one lifetime.

~ ajay

21/3/2022

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