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Phainesthai
What otherworldly innocence
could fecundate the thoughts
of the mind in the cloud,
So tethered to this world
by a wrapping of tangled
fiber optic wires, humming
The interchangeable vibrations
of sight and sensation as they
blink out into the vanishing gray?
What aphoristic brevity
could challenge the wit
and diminish maieutic
Impulses, withering them
in the unconscious acts of
ever-steady electronic meditation?
What eyes could taste
the cyanide apple before them
and crunch its tender, metallic
Skin, causing the dehiscence
of doxastic currents to subside
to the amplified, yet numbing, tongue?
What vision would saccade
itself, twitching to embed
the cross-pollinated images
Of the undiscerning pupil?
What hegemony of reference
would breed the germs to fester
An ecosystem of interruption—
of an ambrosial distraction—
eschewed forever in the jumble
Of sweet autoamputation?
What noumenal space—
of abstract lacunarity—
could sever our place
as a conduit for—
as an isopraxism
to mirror—
such Dasein,
Being in which Being itself
is confused?
poem
by
Tim Stensloff
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