Poetry Issue 20:2


Jose Perez Beduya

Past Vertical

Idiot shadows in slow idiot races, acted upon
by our wild innards’ over-rotations,
we circumambulated blindly
inside nested mazes and only discovered
after the evacuation years later,
when the last torso had been pulled
through the last and narrowest funnel,
we were in the wrong meeting.
To this day, we have yet
to decide if we’re holarchists, mercurial
builders and burners
of corporations, or incrementalists,
and although now we could not travel
without elaborate masks and skins, we adore
public transportation. Otherwise,
we must crawl like innocents into the pyramidal distance
and shatter so we could dive
and pass between blades of grass to emerge
whole again but stunned and laughing in pain,
with our hands to our ears, on that always
louder other side.