THE TROUBLE WITH WORMHOLES ❋ Damian Rogers
How many times must I learn the lesson of compression?
Let go of everything you know and start from scratch.
One friend performing backbends on a beach while another
snaps his tibia on an icy patch of Saskatchewan. I don’t think
I’m suffering, my days a series of unexpected gifts punctuated
by a blast of the family rage shot deep into my soft plexus.
It occurs to me I don’t have to be so many people. If you’re staying
alive spinning stories, it’s suddenly a skill that you talk too much.
I’m not sure it’s smart to unlock the portal. The reformed raver
claimed he saw my inner wheels spin. Red Cloud, are there wars
where you are? Your great-great-grandson appeared on Democracy
Now! with a plan. Will my generation be remembered for anything
I haven’t forgotten? They mine the hills for gold, they mine the hills
for uranium, and all around the world, columns are cracking.
I’ve watched you soar all day. Please teach me how you do that.