Unacknowledged this hawk-eyed underlife;
unseen, hovering soundlessly above,
observes our attempts to communicate.
Bars and then spaces, spaces and then bars;
words and then spaces, spaces and then words.
Music, conversation in the early dawn.
My words cut glass, a trigonometry.
Yours a slice of reality TV.
Cutting edge music this, fraught with discord.
Words enfold mirrored worlds; space echoes space.
Uncharted, the space within the worlds;
chimeric, the worlds within the spaces.
You twitter from inside, captive songbird.
I twitter from outside, locked out, exiled,
feeding this bonfire of words to keep warm,
maybe finding among these words refuge,
sanctuary, a hiding place. And then
some note peeps deep within that melody,
tingles in my ear, tiptoes warily
into the light: the song of the phoenix;
lightning bolt sending a shiver up the spine.
The unwatched cauldron at last boils over
revealing us to be understudies,
stand-ins while God is otherwise engaged,
and your words creep up inside of me now
as mine inside you. Sentences repealed.
Downside is upside; outside inside out.
We come, we go, yet eternally still.
My lofty mathematical conceits
and your vacuous documentaries
abandoned in shame. Who were we fooling?
There’s me describing a sphere with tangents
and you describing the plot of some soap.
Just what the hell were we trying to prove,
sitting huddled round a word to keep warm?
Let’s leave this documentary alone.