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Aperture

I have done it again, crossing / outside the frame into / some brave, new world

Poetry | Poetry Tuesday, poetry
June 14, 2022

I say, Hello world, in blinking my eyes.
So it floods in like a flock of folk
and squeezes inside a lobby
through double doors—
Magic: a book is opening before me.
I have done it again, crossing
outside the frame into
some brave, new world, or
unknown territory
dissolved in daguerreotype.
But what depends, new friend?
That this hole inside of me,
a nether state, tethers and swells
for framed animation,
reel to real life, a soul
transmuted into a video tape.
Push me in and press play.
Do you remember any of it
going like this? I do not.
Only because I cannot
stop waking up. I guess this
has been the best of situations
where sonic closures
chase me out of echoes like
reverb folding out of flowers,
blinking toward windows,
toward something flowers or
I may not understand.