You see the world to fragments fall
Or rather furl as if about to whirl
A jig saw with a crack in its wall
You bound to mirror, door & hall

Outside there’s nothing left but war
Pieces of you splattered on the shore
Where the straight line is drawn to
Redefine by comparison the horizon

Or by any metaphor of comparison
This world as but a fragment of information
A fricative fractured fractional fiction
Or nothing at all but the writing on the wall.

Poetry Life and Times