Shell by Pig
Turn a card, turn a page, the action
sure to start, second-stage reaction
to illogical thoughts on random lines
in a Borges dream we move toward
the writing of lives.
Leave it out, leave it in, no edits -
with a shout, with a grin I said
it was a certainty that I'd arrive
in an Escher sketch we walk around
the drawing of lines.
The character uncertainty
as he contemplates his lot
and tries to move with urgency
though he's rooted to the spot.
On the brink, on the edge, but lately
what I think, what I said escapes me
in a flash, a tiger burning bright
does the visionary trance obscure
the burgeoning night?
And she said "What are you doing?"
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