Flawed Philosophical Zombie
I - Anniversary of dregs
A coroner stands beside
a young man's bed today
Confused that he woke
The air is quadraplegic
Falling into him
Not doing much
The world is this hole
in the front of his house
he can't enter
The Discovery Channel
of the windows
Faces
are crossword puzzles,
speaking cryptic
clues of themselves
he can't answer
II - Un-focal-point
Re-assemblance
in the balance of a moment
His chameleon eyesmirk
stiff down to the sediment
of the glass factory,
grating together pane-
goggles to watch the world
distrubute itself,
sold to the coming second
without contention
And then recalibration
And then
recalibration
And
then
recalibration
Eyes make a rusty lens
