The Maze is Deep

[tun]

The Maze is Deep


Into the new matter of trace

Would be the first gatherings

To be perhaps the wood

Opposed to the ways

Should the laps find its’ pace

Could some flapping of the wings sway

Drag from the sampling, customized grey

Lay out the flags, snagging each prize, every flake

Where the shaken lips speak, entangling aches

There to tighten the grips of the weak shall awake

Flared to enlighten the dips into these creeks make

Hate the battle, not the cause, for it leads many to break

Take the rattle of the loss after one's own surrender

In case the tales get trapped and dissolved, never remember.

In this piece the lines have the shape of meaning — verbs, nouns, imagery — but they don’t cohere into a scene, a body, or a story. There are poetic signifiers - wings, flags, lips, aches, battle, surrender - but they orbit an unknown Sun - they exist without visible internal justification. If the scene had been set - for example; A man asks a woman if she will have sex with him and she declines - then this could function as a sort of hyper-grandiose mourning and existential processing of the pain of sexual rejection - this would be a recognizable internal axis for the imagery to depend upon.