Friday, November 7, 2014

Carey Scott Wilkerson




Icarus composing a letter to Helios
as he plummets first onto, then through,
the roof of La Scala during a performance of
Ariadne auf Naxos by Richard Strauss


Dear Sun,

This is why
we can’t
have nice things
in your shimmering
and counterfactual
narrative world.

A mythic figure
could fly and fall
forever through
grim ironies
of imprisonment
and escape,

but to remain
suspended just above
the rising action
and title of one’s own story
is a shameful indignity.

Of course, it’s true
that Ariadne charted her
own course to ruin,

and in that sense
we have unspooled our
neuroses in the same
                             damaged light.

And yet this tale
necessarily col(lapses)
onto itself as from
strobing
                            Phaëton lost to
delirium’s number line
a
framing thus        (a naming modulo)
which will have been
and three radiant Elektor
or probabilistically
is neither
                           two in scintillance
dread Hekatos

if logical positivists
are (without the existential quantifier)
as   (to whatever is blinded in that which is a scene)
coming down
Hyperion
and one
coming                
   

                          down.





© Carey Scott Wilkerson



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