A prose poem by one of my heteronyms, Basil Cartryte.
I have forgotten who everyone is & no one despises. I thought that was me. Naive hauteur of the half-educated trickles across corroded circuit boards to power itself. I can't recall how to judge the germinated against the grafted. Deep roots' gaudy blossoms draw rancorous bees. Their honey is sour. What shade does our singing raise? I don't remember what space time leads us to, but we missed all the turns. Especially crossroads swollen with pollen, intersections of hands, & the ways marked with mossy cairns. I used to have a map, but it got lost. Everyone is here but those who are found. They have our reasons.
-- Basil Cartryte, 7/8/2020
Image info: Until Then, copyright 2020 by by Carl Bettis, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.