The Image of the World

​The image of the world having been
Forever, of earth and asteroids,
Comes from the despotism of 
Imagination, from trapezoids

And Mandelbrots that spin
Their dizzy, silly information,
That patterns printed on eyelids,
The maps demanding adoration.

The skin of the onion makes
You cry, your eyes blur, your
Will sags, your body melts.
Remember who you were? Snore!

You’re gone, your rotting straw.
If you sip from this infected canal,
You will find yourself driven,
A mile or parsec, from the locale,

From the path, of the superior light,
You will live in your cilia, your
Head will jerk at every passing
Attraction, until you are heartsore.

Your harsh heart doesn’t know a thing
That’s right, and you find yourself
In the boondocks, in Humnabad, in
Segue 2, and from the shelf

Your brain topples, splat! Your
Eyes wander and they cease
To see, and the power of the 
Shafts of light, pump and release,

The solid stone wall, your jigsaw
Deeds, and our hearts are sundered,
Crabs scatter across the sand,
Weeping refugees are plundered,