Tuesday, May 9, 2017

STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION

I met a nice guy once
or twice

in a mirror,
and each time, he

silently reminded me—
how we

can usually see
all kinds of things

a whole lot more easily
than we can ever

repeat them
back to anyone else listening.

It sounds funny, doesn't it?—
to cause a child,

to create 
a fire—

when neither one of those
was our invention.

Now, the only contraption
I can devise

to cleverly wheel myself
out of this alive

is this whirling, spitfire
torture rack sort of

thing—where words
are constantly

stretching
and shifting their meanings, but the

things in the world
keep on staying stubbornly,

stiffly,
exactly the same.

From there, it's a no-brainer
that I can never

successfully transform what's here
into what's

there anymore,
and it also

pretty neatly explains
how come,

even though
I might have used to think so,

an acorn—
in real life

never turns
into an actual,

physical—stalk of
that corn.

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