I may or may not be:
a posited feline absurdity
curled up on comma paws
inside Herr Schrödinger's booby-trapped box.
Its flask of uncertain
whether smashed to poison my mighty mews
and spew a gray-mouthed cloud
that inky clots neither's sharpening pen.
Entangled buts become
stranded as knots of fuzzy pink yarn send
either-or careening
arm and arm down imperfect pictured paths,
where Epimetheus
stands, ready to wed Pandora anew,
and doom-birth our many
worlds with the lifting of my thousand lids.
— Francis Scudellari
2 comments:
Esoteric, but lovely. You lend an enigmatic quality to your verse through words!
The references in this one are a bit obscure, that's why I included the links. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
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