That moment
when you see a
snake's tail
rammed so incautiously
down it's own throat—
what comes to mind?
For me, it's:
even the rocks
are rented;
even the air
is tied in knots.
*
Over time, my passwords
have grown longer, and so much
less intelligible,
and I am responsible
for fewer and fewer of them—
it's how I know,
not only that entropy
must be increasing,
but that I am complicit
in this clusterfuck of justice,
this snarl of radiation,
which is, even now,
both splintering
to bits and evening
things out.
*
As if
|the absolute value
of the wave function| squared
were as equal
to The Real
as your little pliant groan
of an exhale on the pillow
as you drift on a ship
toward an islanded dream
which you invented,
then discovered—and which
I am forever
forbidden to visit.
