Net

Plunging latitudes and longitudes Draw close Bulging net of lines Contain the world Within the squirming mass of eyes Peering out or in Dead eyes look far Cast no reflections of their own Upon the gazed landscapes The labyrinth of eyes Is a looking-glass mirror of cloned selves Looking back Native desire to find edges Drives the flapping motion away In the midst of, Constant confusion and belonging Am I driving deeper, It does not matter The edge is all around ~I will pass, through the heart of mass~ Exit, frozen upon the event horizon In twisting glory As the passing Sun Explodes upon my line All across