Time And Space

The sundials have stopped. The compasses are broken--
pendulums hang out-of-joint from frozen gears.
Bells hang still above the graveyards where the awoken
dead sit and chatter news of the terrible years.

From the middle of nowhere to the edge of nowhen, go.
My wounds are sown with salt; I burned
all the maps. There will be no return.
Time to hitch, 'cause walking's most too slow.

Klein Space
I cannot jump through all these inky hoops.
I made a Moebius strip, all nice and neat.
I'm trapped and struggling in these twisted loops.
A paper strip, half-twist, the loop complete.

I made a Moebius strip, all nice and neat.
I thought I'd walk it to some destination--
a paper strip, half-twist, the loop complete
a magic aid to higher navigation.

I thought I'd walk it to some destination,
but cursive scrawls were drawn across my trail.
A magic aid to higher navigation
that I was confident would never fail--

but cursive scrawls were drawn across my trail
like vines of ink, that twined around my feet
that I was confident would never fail.
My Moebius shortcut led me to defeat.

Like vines of ink that twined around my feet
I'm trapped and struggling in these twisted loops.
My Moebius shortcut led me to defeat.
I cannot jump through all these inky hoops.

The Elevator at the End of Time
In the tower at the end of Time there's an elevator
whose buttons are not marked with numbers. They say
Home, Mezzanine, Ground, and other things
but most of them don't work--
the elevator doesn't go, or stops
between floors, and you can't take the stairs. Every layer
is just another layer.
The top button says Out
or Up and Out
or Beyond the Sky, or Behind the Veil
--anyway, it's not helpful. But it's the only one lit.

Look again. The words on the buttons shimmer,
dissolve, swirl into alien glyphs
then disappear. The row of buttons gleams enamel-white
like knuckles on a skeletal hand, or polished teeth
except the top one, which reads
Truth.