My eternity
is the wall
holy plane of cement

there
a bird
stuck in solid whiteness
upon inspection
the rusty limb
of a nail

dawn is
but a hole
a minor cave
between two framed
photographs of the sky
of Arizona

a babel rising
against this vertical horizon

books and books
leaning against
my immobile infinity

a finger
combs the
miniscule craters
as if caressing
a tooth of God

my wall
neither
warm or cold
a monk’s sigh
converted to stone

 

 

 

Absurd Poetry