Thursday, November 01, 2007

C.C.

Collapsed against the wall of space,
Distantest depths too present.

Prison of now, parallax trompe l’oeil,
An echo entombing all tombs.

For a sigh to escape, no space.
For a way to be, no place.

Sigil the blackest metal cannot trace,
Fact, sense, so pressed . . .

My face!
Cosmic claustrophobia!