When I glaze my donut eyes down into that well
of unknowing, I see my future self engaged
in war against a crystal ball. Funny how we’ve 
fallen like this, tumbling head over knees in a mad
dash for obscurity. But I beat you to it– 
she blinks back up at me, honeyed eyes like apples

from the ancient times. Back pedaling. Finger tips 
against hot clay bricks, jacked and stacked like holy Christ
all criss-crossed. My blinded future doesn’t look bright
in this particular room; but I suppose there 
are others – my mother at least believes in me 
no strings attached, says she. I’d love to say the same

but attack within me that which yields to the flying 
saucer future self tumbling down the drinking well.


Rozell, 2022.

1 Comment on “Unmanned

  1. The many vision-related words used in this poem, “eyes”, “see”, “obscurity”, “blinks”, “blinded”, “look”, “bright”, go very well with the collage!

    Liked by 1 person

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