Unwinding in a cavernous bodega he suddenly <br />Burst out:--Barman, these tumblers empty themselves <br />And yet I persist; I am wedged in the giant eye <br />Of an invisible needle. Walking through doors <br />Or into them, listening to anecdotes or myself spinning <br />A yarn, I realize my doom is never to forget <br />My lost bearings. In medias res we begin <br />And end: I was born, and then my body unfurled <br />As if to illustrate a few tiny but effective words-- <br />But--oh my oh my--avaunt. I peered <br />Forth, stupefied, from the bushes as the sun set <br />Behind distant hills. A pair of hungry owls <br />Saluted the arrival of webby darkness; the dew <br />Descended upon the creeping ferns. At first <br />My sticky blood refused to flow, gathering instead <br />In wax-like drops and pools; mixed with water and a dram <br />Of colourless alcohol it thinned and reluctantly <br />Ebbed away. I lay emptied as a fallen <br />Leaf until startled awake by a blinding flash <br />Of dry lightning, and the onset of this terrible thirst.<br /><br />Mark Ford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twenty-twenty-vision/
