Spine
My spine I find is mine.
Sensory. Sensitive.
I saw it.
It was I, in mountains of Canada and it looked like a snowy valley. But warm.
It looked warm.
Yes, I could feel with my eyes its warmth.
I saw – felt – inside myself, warm-snowy with a 30% grade decline.
That’s how it was when I saw it,
same as me.
It had short fingers of attention span. A bug with many legs,
but these were fingers.
I picked it up,
saw – felt with my eyes –
the tickling of its fingers into my palm.
I saw the tickling.
I was the tickling.
It was a sensory thing.
It was mixed up, lost, with minimal attention span.
It, too, could feel with its eyes.
It wanted me, any warmth I had in me.
The spine I found is bound in me, wound backwards.
It will spin. I can smell the spin coming.
I can taste the color of it on my tongue. It’s the color of mirrors.
Encyclopedia of Surreal Encounters
Field Agent: David Welper
Reporting to: Pam Shen
