Paul Hoover

 
The Errancy:  Dark Knight
Something collapsed, and we found were were sliding.
Uphill, we were sliding into the spectre
We had read about in books.
There was profit to be had, but not for us,
Who stared through nature toward fate.
We, who thought we were prophets,
Would be forced into prophecy soon.
The poetry machines and the truth machines
Stood in the hallway waiting
For something like poetry to emerge 
From this truth, which was fiction,
A dream of substance, elision of the actual.
As with the light, so with distance,
As with nature, so the loss.
As with the mirror, light and darkness.
We would soon take a photo 
Of all we had lost, but memory was failing.
The actual was failing,
And the place could not be found.
No crepuscule and no Nelly,
No marking of the time.
We were sliding as we had been told to slide.
The door was locked open, the window blank,
Inanity the new tragedy, the new heroism.
Are we small enough for our time?
Citizens of the New Pleasantry,
Laughter and false charms, 
The prequel and the sequel 
On a date to see Dark Knight.

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