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