There exists, here

Dressed up in my history causing events

where I can sense, only

in front of where I was before, reaching

back, in the present.


There exists, here,

only reaction. Quantum experiences of a post contemporary

existence. What can I know now when

I fired then?


I wear it, but sense a mirror.

Has reflection stolen reality?

A granted presence exchanged for assumption.

Filed under Poems, on