Poem 16
First emergence was the minding of language, the origin mirror and field in which what is real took hold, wedging us into a refractive episteme.
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In the circuitous glow of anti-history, ways of knowing were ubiquitous, cheap, and as fickle as the shimmering and duplicitous creeks that led us one to the other. Movement portended power in the unfettered grace of radical alterity.
In despair, we turn on the allegorical and beg for the rebirth of the holy illusion; roiling as we are in the daylight of an integral reality where queries and critique are laid out on the commons; this place is a tomb in which nobody cries, no one can feast, and meaning is always over-saturated with flavor du jour.
