Featured Poet: K. Shawn Edgar

Searching O. Hunt

“Come have at us, we are strong.”

 

Elephant is,

Land dweller.

Seal,

Water-carving sea serpent.

If the two, accidentally entwined during teleportation, say …

What function from this form, unintended, would come?

Would we fear?

Would we worship?

Elephant and Seal,

Subatomic particles mingling meaning and purpose,

To foster atoms and cells,

Reorganize,

Split, and

In splitting become …

O. Hunt has vanished

Screen date on last post,

June 8, 2008.

I feel,

Maybe fear,

The infamous photon from Vienna has become a human,

Many humans.

Daily, perhaps?

Or just a test group of adventurous forward-thinkers departing June 8, 2008.

Ofelia, are you river floating

Poetic,

Stuck,

Just below the surface,

In a staged pool of light?

Dead.

From a prince’s abusive madness?

From a controlling, pestering, word-slayer of a father?

Or experimental Teleportation?

One wonders,

On the stage.

Every exit …

Candlelight through a scrim …

Is this what we are?

Will become?

Photon to photon,

Cell to cell,

Information of Ofelia sent to the starry night,

Laced, and

Unlaced,

Adorned again,

But never sure she’s the same.

How much is held, of us, 

In a thing so small?

A nutshell,

A river dell?

“Elephant seals negate the tactile universe.”

Still,

‘Tis true enough in words, and

As I tap,

And slide,

And flip,

Through her pages,

Her posts reveal

Her information has moved beyond atoms and cells,

Mingled with photons, and

Straddled the space of no time.

O. Hunt births still,

She breathes as I breathe

Her words,

The images come,

Their phenotypes revealed in,

Post after post.

Their truths mutable like her titled Elephant seal,

A saltation in species,

Screaming

Super-atomic,

A form beyond a copy,

With function multi-compatible,

Tactile without being touched.

Transformational, and

Trans-generational.

Yet, at the end of the day,

Ofelia is gone.

Her face,

That single photo,

Staring from her profile page,

A closeup of one eye,

Deep seismic shards of amber,

This is the remainder.

No more than a hint of O. Hunt,

Visible beyond the image border,

Confined in a nutshell.

Yet,

Somehow,

That single tabular eye,

Always makes me feel, like …

A King

Of infinite

Space.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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