Bits
Bits
The bits keep coming off.
They don’t stick around long,
They melt, or dissipate, or…
When he said he was coming unglued,
I didn’t think it meant
This.
He found it in a pawn shop, the book –
Arcanum
Exsistentiae,
Old,
Leather-bound,
A curiosity smelling
of...
The shop owner
let it go cheap.
The bits don’t
disappear as much as
Fray?
Fade?
Flee?
I think all of
those are right somehow.
I asked who was
going to translate it.
He said he
understood every word.
He also said he
didn’t know how.
He read some to
me,
Until he stopped.
Until the bits
started...
They don’t fall,
But they don’t
float,
They
Waft,
Like feathers,
He said we’re feathers,
The book says we’re
feathers.
“Feathers of
Life,” he said, “Held together by...”
Then the bits
began... feathering...
I’m going to try
to get him back.
I can read the
book,
I don’t know how,
It’s still Latin
but...
I’m going to try
to get him back.
I’ll let you know
when I’m done reading.
It’s all
beginning to make sen
Cliff Lake
6/28/2025
Copyright (C)
Clifford Lake 2025
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