Intimations of Hell

Intimations of Hell

From out of that preserve one cannot see,
from every soft dimension of the new
that forms itself where ether trembles, parts
and yields, where intellect threw up its hands
and words were not enough...it came.

One hundred thousand glances down, and then
belief suspends and breaks away;
it is as if there is no path back home,
the self departed,
sent a stranger in,
the body is an empty drum
regarded warily.
Identity awaits an infant now
alas, too late arriving
and the niche anticipates,
anticipates...
~