Poem 1979 (2)

Sleeping Tantalus

Numbers arrive misplaced
through every fathomless hair pore
of time
in a wink
of empty selves
as bubbles that flash
while this visitor vanishes
shrunk to a speck
across reeling totality
among deeper veils
those reluctant shades
in their graves
which even appeared
to exist
via some dubious enigma
of units stopped
in place.

Thus were found
only broken images
purified by dream.


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