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The enemy of veracity is verisimilitude.
Dichtung.  Mostly mystery.
Retrophecy of the vaticinari.
The religious all worship either a circle with corners
or a square without.

Silver, what can be used for one's own purposes,
and gold, what can reveal what one's purposes are.
Do we make dreams?  Do we have dreams?
Do we become dream?  Does dream become us?
Calm is an illusion of coherence.

The lingua franca of the elective mute.
The indulgent murmurs of thought versus
the extremity of sleep.
The distrust of self inherent
in the ablation of abstraction.

As cause is effect and effect is cause,
the belabored becomes the beloved.
And yet we encounter our zeitgebers
despite an affable estrangement
from the omniplicitous Cataclysmos.

What was essential in life
becomes an untranslatable glyph
etched on the wall of a lost monument
buried under an instant eon
of sediment at death.

Corporate news of industrial war.
We are not equal
to the task
of civilization
it turns out.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.