Out-of-focus shapes dance in strange ways (a poem)

Today’s entry.

Dark flows against light
tricks in the shape of a funhouse mirror
Steps disappear
without ever touching the ground
solid earth is a vague concept

Eyes open wide without ever seeing
the amorphous outlines of truth
Column inches
add up to nothing
even as ink pools in the pores

Haze is not quite the weapon
it pretends to be
As much as it obscures
it provides hiding places
and new fields for light to play

Now the water runs deep
and we are hungry

(21 June 2017)