Ripples are neither yours nor mine.
The child throws
the ping pong of my eye.
the ping pong of my eye.
They approach towards me
but from both sides.
but from both sides.
They rise from a silence
and are always lost in it.
Left is my eye claiming an answer
pushing its weight out of fear
pushing its weight out of fear
into a world
which calls itself liquid
which calls itself liquid
but a deviation is never short
of an incident.
Ping Pong -- Erki Schotter
Thanks Duane ☺
ReplyDeleteYou're very welcome. I hope to feature more.
ReplyDeleteRipples dissolved outside
ReplyDeleteStill incident as accident
Ripples remain, witnessing metaphor of metaphors of kinetic and potential where silence is of the accidental incident in confluence
A class of its own
Daipayan Nair always of supreme exponence .