5

(Singularity)

before a dark room made of
mystery, in doubt and
no small measure of denial

I wonder, I feel so vague,
almost knowing something,
not quite discerning,
knowing nothing

knowing this:

7+1 = 8 within the coil of
yesterday’s singularity, captive
participants dancing
around each other,
alone, disparate elements of
an atom

we can dance and sing like
we’re in a fucking musical,
but this song will ever remain
off beat, out of time, out of tune
& this is the way we all
dodge trepidation,
a meme on fire
and us saying,
“This is fine.”

Poem by Shane Douglas Keene

READ THE SERIAL NOVEL BY JOSH MALERMAN