Tuesday, April 3, 2012

OFFICE

The bored minotaur
Alone in his labyrinth
And for a time
The empty cubicles
Remaindered only
Hope to others
From under a monster’s
Despair

Because the monster
Has no hope
Its body imprisoned
On the inside
Reveals an outside
To his world

And no one comes
Or if they do
He has already gone
For the true center
Of the labyrinth
Is the movement
Toward dawn

Out come phonons and photons
Trune, trune, at bull’s head
(incident (path
(continuo (trace

What simple spaces
The combination clad in
Meander rhyming
Sad with glad

All the lucky wastelands
Toward the entry
Of its forgotten purpose

Suddenly it rears up
Above the circuit
What the minotaur
Calls his labyrinth finally
Is failed interpretation
Trune, trune

And its substance stills,
Thrills off center, omphaloss,
At margin anon th'trivial fountain,
Those nudes he left
Alone forever and molested
Emptiness all