The actual afterlife
Isn’t for imagining
Or for experiencing
With the embodied senses,
Although something’s going on
That sometimes smacks of vision
And sometimes appears near sweet
In air. Proprioception
Is almost wholly erased,
But there’s an aspect
Of relative distance, space,
A roughly fore and after
Arrangement of faint presence.
Is there a way to explore
This watered-down afterworld?
Is this just the fading glow
Bright lights leave on retinas?
If so, no retinas here,
Middle of not anymore.
There is that spear-leaved flower
Dense with lines, still hovering.
Friday, January 12, 2024
Still Hovering
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.