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No False Veil
'Q'zi no vano thzina walizz.'
No false veil of time or space may intervene…
A red sky spreads like shingles under a rib,
and orange sunbursts beneath the leathery skin,
and somewhere a cirrhotic constellation
looms, speckling where figmentary,
invisible lines supersede the crossroads of
Misdirection.
The colors beam forth, klieg-light-esque,
after an interval of darkness, the sounds—
oscillating in the antennae
of our consciousness—
Cause me to receive life for a moment.
My reflexes twitch in yugen to hear
the thoracic auscultations that cross-cut
with the pedestrian blurs of commerce,
and reveal something inside itself and expose—
not from a deflated husk, gutted,
with bone white revealed
through peeling eye sockets,
but from Akshara—
an anamorphic hologram of reality,
another Verschränkung theory of being,
and something which lets something linger
where something will or will not be.
poem
by
Tim Stensloff
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