“In my beginning is my end.”
--T.S. Eliot, East Coker
Credi in UFO’s?
Her immediacy to resist death,
And the recalcitrant fight to submerge in life,
Reminds us not of a battle, but a raging pacifism,
Caught up in the filigree of atomized consciousness,
Left to breed among the Moline crosses of an
Abandoned church falling to the lamented ground by the
Absence of belief.
So afterwards, the drinks sparkled in their own bioluminescence,
As if a parasitic tick was feeding upon our livers, shinning without
The light of the anachronistic human race, but producing its
Own malevolent illumination to cover her resistance with the
Hinting with thoughts of her dying against the meaninglessness of a
Nihilistic dawn with the presence of alien abstraction, and the wounding of time’s linear progression into significance.
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