Transmigrant Blues

By Indi Riverflow | October 20, 2013

I met him pike hoses
In protean pantomimes
One door opens
As another one closes
One bell silenced
As another one chimes

Just a fresh headline
On the same old news
Returning from the churning
Burning with yearning
And singing the Transmigrant Blues

I dwell in Dedalus
Labryinthan odysseys
Shipwrecked galleys
Calypso circuities
Short times of space
Through short spaces of time


I am the Cyclops
I am no one
I am everyone

Doublin’ down instructions
In parallax constructions
Morphing intertextuality
Modalities of ineluction
Blooming into founts
Of epiphany in the first degree
And unnumbered counts
Of unmitigated premeditated poetry


I am the Cyclops
I am no one
I am everyone

Ideas have immortality
If they deserve to survive
Authoring the authority
From which all tall walls derive
Grading shades of solubility
And which medium shall thrive
Shouting over the triviality
That usually consumes our lives

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