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by Michael Steiner

I am writing toward the right-side margin / I am writing toward next week / next

month / next century / I am a bridled horse with bit in mouth / I am a lion going

blind with age/ I am / I am / I am / running out of metaphors / walking too quickly /

seated on a chair with the Treadmill of Damocles right there above me / all head

and no body / a wheel of swiss cheese / all space / with pockets of curdled milk

that spin in the air / space / where there should be matter / holes made up entirely

of cheese / I am all cheese no space / when I breathe in air meets air /

when I breathe out / air meets air / I have clotted the blood in my lungs / in my

brain / in the strands of my hair growing outward / I am beating around the bush

/ some days I could drink all the coffee in the world and stay asleep / I could

drown myself in liquor and walk in a straight line / I could walk the distance

between my finger and my thumb when they are pinched together / just the

same as that wall and that wall over there / the distance is measured in feet-in-

front-of-the-other / they are connected at the corners as if they are the same wall

/ and I feel I could walk between them / measuring out the space.