Saturday, February 12, 2011

An Orphan Universe

I don't exist.
Not exactly anyway.

Outside between things.
That's it entirely.

Except that every
thing changes in

all ways. Always
it is all

a performance, every
piece of us.

Each performance melts
into another thing

becoming something else.
An orphan universe.


I'm struck by
how often I

don't know what
I write means.

1 comment:

  1. ...but the colors do wonders for reading. the way yellow words disappear so you have to lean close to hear them like with a whisper. the ubiquitous black text loses its authority, someone else comes in.