The cat might be dead in this box
labeled: "Knowing. Grow
faster than you can fall apart
and be alive!"
I keep opening myself and peeking
for a breakthrough.
Half alive is a ridiculous idea-
undead and science-fiction.
Cute and fluffy and hopeful.
But we know the laws of science, laws of physics
dictate
just more dead cats.
Beyond that equilibrium
no amount of looking can change
the familiar poison that keeps
bitterring
curiosity.
In every discovery, mortality keener.
But it never kills the thirst
to open and find and look.
Every time I thrash my soul
'be new!'
against the concept of decay
something breaks off like a yellow leaf and drops.
