Forest Hanging from Inflection Point
by Daniel Carden Nemo
Light slings low between detached dimensions
where the field hangs from inflection points.
The wind makes for it a shell-shaped labyrinth,
a network of nodes in which 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 miniature corridors running at each other.
Nothing to hold them in place except stories,
lawless narratives drawn from an instinct for reality--
yours-meets-theirs: the world.
where the field hangs from inflection points.
The wind makes for it a shell-shaped labyrinth,
a network of nodes in which 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 miniature corridors running at each other.
Nothing to hold them in place except stories,
lawless narratives drawn from an instinct for reality--
yours-meets-theirs: the world.
© Daniel Carden Nemo