Lens & garter by Phillipe Vicente

The cave man foreboding his arrows & bones
like a comet, sketches time’s abode.

Under the loins of my work
I’m measuring. I’m accelerating.

I grind & my lenses
become other gravity, or lugubrious monarchies.

Where Einstein’s wrath pokes the knot
time’s noose digitizes & widens

not dimensionally, but with the elasticity
of biology.  Time’s wrath ticks too kindly.

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