JAMES MORSE

around the block walking sideways into the sun

losing grip on the mode of conundrums and falling fast into a myriad of deductions,

I wait

<intermittent signals firing>

patiently for a call to move out of the realm of convictions and into the Waters of Siloe while brick walls march along the sidewalk (faulty perceptions of personified forms console for a moment and then slack in the line) [begin to tow again stat]

paradigm shift

I walk with a cadence of a worn machine blackened by the tarnish in a dim lit factory hall

or a four-walled prison where Salvation breaks upon each breath and movement I afford to take

sending cursor over an LED screen, unheavenly in its artificial light

<intermittent signals firing>

through this abstract opaqueness, I meet no true man,

only marauders in disguises of everyday devices which become futile given enough time (further evidence for the tendency towards objectification due to a concupiscent consciousness)

eclipse marks the new year

in awe I stare into the abyss and then return to the plane of the Modern Man and his pursuit of efficiency

<defense mechanisms engage>

bedouin sound echoes into the air and sends its moan to inhabitants of an oasis, comfortably sipping tea in the keeping room

camels walk, dragging their toes across the sand, eyelids drooping

and a mirror mirage, a canyon of infinite walls ebbs and flows in the heat,

separation like water and oil,

water and blood,

blood and oil,

through collapsed syllogisms I walk an arc and back again

through a pharaoh’s gaze

eternal haze