a tripod of transference

​

All the neighbors fled to ground floor and I responded
by singing to them this mellifluous tripartite lyric:

"thrice you thrust these questions
of meaning into little boxes
and the ruts of sameness
you derived were
remarkably
alike

the rice that rusts and deprives
a gleaning of boards and ads
and their signals of self
and withers rows of
expectant grains
away

the ice for us will mark a dive into
melting solid boundaries towards
the south and the north
and the third pole
of seeming
aware."