#305 - notes towards the making maze

 

2.xi.20

305

notes towards the making maze

 

for the philosophy of table tennis

 

 

with no way

I run myself in

like come to the platform’s end

after blur journey

or walk the line because

hands dirty with the picture

(oil is poison)

no one exempt

high as the hedge you see

 

is it free will?

we are making this up

have to be

it’s stranger than

tread the mill

 

maze needs sweeping

be the broom

and is it me? is it?

must lose myself to be

just to…

 

go lean and slippered

rattle cage and chains

glimpse the other mice in the cage

and flicker bung for fun

 

must never mention

but follow a flying ball

sing after

call it

 

come clippers and trim

come streets of polished turd

down dragonfly alley

in old lattice bright

sneaky

music tricks the light

 

you’ll go on as you please in there

 

it’s from the upside-downery

the wrong way rounding

outside in

tied up

where no one’s trod

it’s slippery

 

sign here

what you cannot know

cough up

(every step’s counted on your phone

that will soon have been a thing)

 

green over grows

and fire - lick corners

maze was once paper

but since has burned

 

now it is a page like this

 

see me poking out somewhere

me again!

all ears for the heart

and run to rags

 

work the neither side

ladders all rung to high heaven

a till

 

surely these words have dreamt me up?

 

I carry a little torch

and am the usher in there

 

nevertheless climbing

in branches underleaf over

delve heaven under mulch

 

have never been subject to perfection

so opposites cannot be true

 

shake the box

see all fall

party till the end

still spins

 

drop this

take the brimming cup

 

and all this eternity’s eye

to fly would wreck the thing

 

there’s a bird full of trees

now home