TRIP SANS LUGGAGE

A one-horned eye rises above the sea
and scans the silky darkness for hairy flies(and their Queen)
A circuit of blind stars charges the air
with obscure streamings of atavistic sense-memory
that coat the skull of the goat
that lies rampant on a field of gelatinous event-clusters
Little Big Bangs haunt each step
Tracers of alternate universes cascade
off my forearm reaching for the coffee cup
I scratch the retina of my third eye
I think that's when the world began again
*