report 000023: out of the underground

& foolishness is not that always. dragged dully up from dreams of snow to find the bird flown returned. one believes & does not believe, equal/opposite. along how many paths

of light the electrons streaming between us in our fastnesses, my telescope collapsing (& perhaps there will be a time when telescopy will cease; a room shared, scotch warming as hands between, four boots by fire drying), wheels within wheels, the slalom as maze? velocity: down, down, the signage slipping by too fast in a language in which i have become as one untutored, oxidized, made careless by the weight of care. no school for learning to read the underside of tapestry, deliberate

tangled, nest of for. lightening bones of the world. i would trace them around you, shutter-speed, my prepositions a cloak so that you would always know where you are, sonar screaming through these deeps returns. my slingshot, my riverbed of smooth stones. & just beyond that rise the tramp of feet.