.
in collapse’s aftermath
it’s suddenly apparent
you have new eyes
with a chance to clean the net
you find connections:
tiny forks of tiny branches
tucked together
as if woven by a small bird
on a high limb in a billowing tree
in a universe of chances
you find what bound your nest
of fragile circumstances,
where all the faulty transformations
open-mouthed, fed by you, had nested
how, as you fed, you looked at them
with only furtive glances
never doing anything to change
what evidence suggested
because you grasped at all
the thing collapsed
and now a devil dances
by Jim Culleny
11/1/15
Blink 