Since the baptized
took for the litter,
hodgepodge is coeval.
In the offal
I found
the true lite
will'-o-the-wisp
appearance,
caught it
like fleas
in wet water candle.
The rainbow I blew
from their pipe dream.
The specter
sanitized
with some lysol.
YOU ARE READING
ignis fatuus
PoetryIllusion cheats on our eyes, as it does with the virtual perception. An illusion isn't virtual, although the virtual can be an illusion. It's not the threshold between unreal and real. It's the being inside a soap bubble which it gets popped. It was...