Ants and ants

In a shrunken world we visit an insect club, humming in early. The wasps leave their sting at the door. Sip honey and watch the flies transfixed by the mirrors, a billion souls in compound eyes. The hookah calms the bees, settling after a nectar day. Pill bugs popped pills, glazed, smiles and rolled back to the booth. Then ants and ants and more ants, more ants in a tide floating us out and away, back to the swollen world of apes.

_____

Someone put faith in me,
soon my imagined failure
to spill all confidence away.

_____

Out there in the plastic dimension of digital widgets, the screens hum and the keys click. Minds are attuned to a different frequency, they dream in revenue floats in blue ice-cream. This programmed world looks comfortable to them, they swim easily in the cyber pool, travelling the mystic rails in a robotic carriage. They use languish, language yet entirely not. You cannot see their currency and cannot hear their songs, they text in telepathy and laugh in a silicon secret context, sly and trending. Poly-cathodic, chipped and scanned, I do not understand the plastic land. Yet it would seem that everybody else does.

_____

Waiting is the package,
the paper anticipation,
receiving is the knowing,
the thing we leave behind.

_____

He babbled on in a dream of his own reading, conjuring memories from nothing at all. Those around him did not correct him, did not condemn his foolish outbursts, but fed the yarns wool, to cruelly knit for him windmills of torment.

_____

We are one thing away from joy
So say the sellers of things.