The ether wave swept through and swept away
intangible imaginings: shimmers from the overworld,
refractions risen from the subterrain,
and the sephine webs connecting them.
When the wave had passed, the town of Fênix
was no longer cloaked in mystery and fantasy,
only naked objectivity remained,
a brutal realism that no-one could withstand.
The inhabitants chose directions
from their weather vanes and fled,
but I was left behind and lost.
Before that, I met Sorry, and before that,
I met the dactylographer.
There was a queue of paperwork
to ride the Way of Iron, and the refugees
from Fênix filled in Form 3A,
boarded the articulated carriages
with their tickets thoroughly stamped.
But Form 3A was not for me, I dared not challenge
the unknowable, the ambiguity of emptiness
following every question mark—the void
would never know my name.
An unentitled sparrow with an alphanumeric pencil
tried to help me, sent me off to Room 3B
where the dactylographer was waiting.
He pressed my fingertips on inky pads,
stained them, one-by-one, and after
momentary contemplation, he passed judgement.
With tiny hearts aflutter, the pigeons vacillate
on rotisseries of the night.
Some make cooing sounds, some whimper,
and some know it doesn’t matter.
One day soon we’ll all be flying, satellites that flail
about the sun, its tiny centripetal petals.
He paused and carefully shook his head.
Not you, though. I don’t like your whorls and whirls.
You must stay behind, and keep the pigeons company.
Fênix is a township in the State of Paraná, Brazil.
More about sephine in exits:
I seek connections to unknow my meaning,
grasp ephemeral sephine strands
that dangle listless from the trees.
destabilisation (detail above), made by VEE, the visual evolution engine, with EMMA, the min-max entropy addon.