Monday, April 18, 2016

The Poetal

The Portal busted open,
But it wasn't what we thought.
We hoped for a world we could
Imagine and live in, both,
Not an imaginary
With no flesh and blood inside,
Extending imagining

To the sort of world a phrase
Might imagine for itself.
It was as if a spaceship hatch
Blew out. Everything out there
Real. Nothing in here survived.
The Library of Babel
Has one language, none of ours.

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