Warp

By Olivier Bochettaz
Waking up by a tropical fire.

The blazing fire stirs me.
I walk, sleepy, into its warmth. It
doesn’t burn me. It caresses
my skin.
I dive inits amber heart, get sucked
into its heat:
red twirls take me,
gently,
away. Familiar faces: masks
passing by.Elephants, again: purple,
green. Flashing in flares.
Body cozily
numbs and I let go. Icondenses at the top
of the skullexits, gently unzipped,
mergeswith the rhythm of this warp.
I amis out
there:
a parrot, a cannibal,
in the bungalow, the butcher knife.
I, an atom in the atom
smasher, a particle in the
particle accelerator. All
at once, twice, thrice. In suns,
in nights,
in silences.