Saint Paul, 8 March 2006
for Lance
An image upside down and reversed
you recognize as your optic projection
but your brain refuses to correct
is this a curable pathology?
Another day penetrates crippled panes
fixed above idle doors long since bolted
invisible photons intersect the transom
bending to a pair of feet below your belly
Indecipherable waves bombard bare-wood
with the languid respite of levitating dust
indifferent to the random whimsy of equilibrium
unimpressed by the gravity of protracted grief
The sun's irradiant but neutered rays
enter as revelation and earnest insight
refract through hopelessly deformed corneas
and exit quietly as some twisted kind of gloom