Return to Poetry – General Audience

The Uncertainty of Principle

Clues untwined become not an answer but an
itch of coarse fibers. Had twinned particles of
energy not collided they would have been or
would they have not except the two of them
could not okay? okaaaaaayyyyyy?????????

A soft demand, not a hard one, i am not three
I am one. I can barely walk. I gesture with my
adipose limbs all plump with yesterday’s feedings
and I spill myself all over the house like a sippy
cup from the dollar store.

If the trajectory range of fear times the fixity of
regret is a constant, then we cannot even
begin to live.

I am at my most dense when I am thinking.
When I begin to let go of reason small objects
pass through me without registering or incurring
a room tax. Birds think me atwitter and advise
me to flap my arms upside down to keep from
floating away like the favorite balloon i lost when
i was i am i am three and not a child, not a father,
not a ghost, not a savior of even my burning toast.

because a poem is more edible with butter than a
universe of wheat and i am not a salad, either.
do i look like one?

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