Part 1
Imagine the world, so round and so large,
With oceans that harbor the whale and the barge,
That licks upon land, miles wide, I am told,
With mountains and valleys and gardens that hold
All the beauty we talk about, think about, see
In the words of the poets and HD TV.
Imagine, now, that the whole world is flat,
(But only so it can be turned upside down
Which will happen later; no question on that)
But nothing has changed: still there’s oceans and ground
And the birds overhead and the demons below
And the trees, and the forests, and gardens, and snow,
And the sand and the sound and all that jazz, you know?
Now turn it upside down (as I mentioned before).
Ahem...
All the water would fall and ascend into space
Bringing with it its whales, a sad look on their face
As they fall with their friends, like the barges and birds
Into that outer-space. And imagine the words
Which escape from the vulgarous mouths of the people
Who watch from the branches and tips of the steeple
As all of the birds and the flowers and water
Go falling away with their sons and their daughter.
And all of the people in all of the caves
Would die when the flat-world got turned upside down
Because of stalactites, which become stalagmites,
And everyone falls onto one, is impaled,
And bleeds to death promptly while screaming in pain
And listening as all his friends do the same.
I’m in my house when the world flips around.
Floor becomes ceiling, and that becomes ground.
Cellar is attic, and garret’s below,
Everything breaks from the fall, so I know
I’m the only one safe in the world because I
Chose not to attend with my family, outside,
In playing a game of socfootbasekickbasket-
Softgolfbouncytennishandrugbyballraquet.
And out of the window, still centered on wall,
I watch all my family as they, shrieking, fall.
A wave and a kiss and they tell me goodbye.
I pretend not to see them, but don’t ask me why.
Part 2
I’m alone, all alone
Sitting on what used to be
The ceiling, but now
I’m sitting on it, and
The ground is now the ceiling, but it used to be
The ground.
The computer’s right beside me, smashed from the fall
From what used to be
The ground but is now the ceiling to what used to be the ceiling but is now
The ground.
And all around me is debris
From similar descents
As that which the poor computer endured
(Or rather did not endure).
And of course, with nothing to do
But look at my poor, dead computer
And the upside-down horizon outside the window
(And it is somewhat entertaining to watch the trees—
The weak trees, whose roots aren’t strong enough—
Rip from the earth above and fall into the sky below)
And with nothing else to do,
I think of her.
Text her, I think, and see if she’s all right…
If she survived the flip-dee-doo of the world.
But of course, I realize, that would do nothing
Since the satellites are now below me
And my phone would send its signals upwards,
Expecting to reach the satellites,
But they would only absorb into the ground.
So I throw my phone out the window, instead, and watch it fall into the sky.
