Eyehole

I hole

The self as scene

Seen in setting a

Secret convenes

Do you suppose

Sun-pose

Dark matters matter

Little as they are seen

I am flesh in meager portion

A twinge-ed flailing nerve

Oil and scrap sold cheap

Away down merchant alley

For love of taking

For fear of fear

Passengers milling upon

Floating barge mistaken

For a world of consequence.

© 2011 Yorgo Douramacos