Monday, August 2, 2021


and behold: not before, 
but behind your very eyes, 

the attention 
is collapsing—
as if 

every thread 
of some fabric 
has unraveled, 

as if empty space 
has been yanked 
down a sinkhole,

a pinhole, 
an infinitesimal 
but unfathomably deep 

black hole—
inside which, 
in a lapse 

lost to time, 
all that nothingness 
gets compressed 

and compounded 
until it explodes—

a new admixture 
of consciousness  
back home 

just in time to notice 
the slight tickle 
in its nose.