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,
a network of nodes where photons sweep retina receptors.
Reflections travel by a sort of revolution.
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,
lawless 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,
a network of nodes where photons sweep retina receptors.
Reflections travel by a sort of revolution.
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,
lawless narratives comprised of projection & distortion--
Yours-meets-theirs: the world.
© Daniel Nemo
