The Black Garden
The first thing I did was imagine a circle and get in it.
Outside the circle the world waited
With its dinner party and its hologram floor of moving stars.
*
Why is it called thus
The tourists asked the inhabitant.
Nothing grew or died there.
And they could not see where the circle ended and began.
I am the only one who can see it.
I am a lonely albino, I pour dark tea down my gullet
All day long just so they can see me.
*
Today I woke up, juggled, made a few notes,
And became symbolically suicidal.
My juggling-balls are shaped like stars.
*
Where are you if not outside the enclosure?
Only figments live inside.
I am colorless and cold. I am my own figment.
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