noticed how
a poem
stirs the dead
of objects
to flap
like vital wings

how it
splits
the feeling
to a pair
of mirrors

wonder
how the metaphor
is an empty cup
we fill with
suffering & immensity

observe
in a fleeting liaison
the sun waiting in the dark
the dream burning the skin
the blue tasting as salt

have you noticed
how a poem
fractures the surface
of the known?

Nihilistic Poetry