Forest Hanging from Inflection Point
by Daniel Nemo
Light slings low between detached dimensions
in the forest hanging from inflection points.
The wind makes for it a shell-shaped labyrinth,
paths among nodes in a network
where photons sweep retina receptors,
echoes travel by a sort of revolution.
Lawless aerial structures lie bare
there in the trueness of physical time
as if darkened by fallout: past and future seem
dark miniature corridors running at each other.
Nothing to hold them in place except stories,
narratives comprised of projection & distortion--
yours-meets-theirs: the world.
in the forest hanging from inflection points.
The wind makes for it a shell-shaped labyrinth,
paths among nodes in a network
where photons sweep retina receptors,
echoes travel by a sort of revolution.
Lawless aerial structures lie bare
there in the trueness of physical time
as if darkened by fallout: past and future seem
dark miniature corridors running at each other.
Nothing to hold them in place except stories,
narratives comprised of projection & distortion--
yours-meets-theirs: the world.
© Daniel Nemo
