I am deluged with words
With diluvial figurative curves.
I see how a king can pass through
The guts of a beggar:
I don't need to be a melancholy Prince
To understand the string theory
When a worm gets stretched
From ground to beak,
Or the night sky becomes a crossword
Puzzle.
Lakes are pools of tears;
Clouds are bandaids covering
Bleeding dimensions.
The earth is a five ball
Caromming through the green felt universe.
Does anything seem as it once seemed?
I have voices conversing
In figures of speech.
Should I be tied to a stake,
Or,
Heard as a soothsayer.
There,
See what I mean?