LIMBOA (0.4)

       
        
            On one stair below mine a sorry figure    
            is crouched with his head down and knees together^
            in an age of hurried clickety-clickers
            he’s a dodosaur of harried handwriting –
            his whole frame quivering from its jerky thrusts^
            out of many selves he’s mocking up a one –
            a quick angel seduced by Matter’s slowness
            whose rhythms he magnifies to scrutinise
            by the scribbling of his left hand connected
            by the two rods of his arm to his shoulder
            that’s also determined to collaborate
            with its owner’s tight obsession to release
            himself of the burden – some of it at least –
            of the lava of awareness bubbling up
            inside him before his volcano erupts^

                     (from “Limboa”, a sentimental anthem,
                                       by Brian Chan, 2023)