The Unfollowing: 7

To begin with, I am faced with mountains to circumambulate, since I can't cut

through them

I enter the folds of a human adventure

On every door there hangs a figurehead and this one comes to face me as the

door swings shut

I will proceed with good will—the best of wills—anxiously

Bird of daughters, bird flying from the forks, the blurbs, the serials, the time

I saw a golden tadpole, eating apple jam; I saw a sudden whirlpool, sucking

down a ham

The boughs groan with fruit, an apple falls—false alarm

It’s a non-sequitur—that

Sense data sinks

The muscles give out mid-word and a thief stutters while accusing me (his

uncle) of theft

Lune comes along mounted on a beast called That who is neither more nor less

than a horse as obedient to Lune as the tides are to the moon

Shot of men hurrying toward each other at an intersection with open umbrellas

none willing to give way to the others, shot of placid camels kneeling near

a chained dog, shot of sugar maples temporarily obscured by falling snow

Tomorrow morning, unless things vastly improve, I’ll go in person to the front

of the caravan and take it over the mountain

I thought I saw an earthworm, stirring in the dirt, then I saw it was a sadist,

wielding a quirt

Source: The Unfollowing (Omnidawn Publishing, 2016)