Orange que te quiero verde, that's Poeticah

The Visual Poetry of Poeticah explores the boundaries between poetry, languages, and traditional with computer visual art.

This is a poem from my chapbook Axtlanadu.

<<Axtlanadu>> The Quest Through Hamlet Senior's Ghost The end or not the end - that is the quest. Perhaps we're in a timeless play that comes And goes and comes and goes and disappears. From an abyss, we enter a floating world Nourished in a velvety warmth beyond words. But soon we're pushed through a tender tunnel, And soon emerge into a glorious light. From void to light, from void to light we go. From act to act we grow into greater roles. No need to fear the voids behind us. No need to fear the voids between our acts. But what about the void beyond our end? Instinct shows there's nothing on the other side. We know our instincts are always right. The moon and stars are little, shining lamps. Our flat earth is at the center of it all. What is beyond the end and what do we want? For sinners the end is an endless tragic play. That's justice. That's good. That is what they deserve For errors made on this brief side of the endless end. For the good ones, the end is a perfect endless play. The script and actors are so noble, just and lovely. No need to ever work, improve, take chances. That's reward. That's good. They earned it. For the average, the end is an endless average play. They never did much good or bad to boast of. That is average. That is good. They deserve it. Maybe the end is an endless play where we always Can work to solve problems to improve things, To experience danger, pain, joy, new frontiers. But that is not a real end. That is no good. Who wants work, danger, pain, responsibility? No! Nothing else will do! We want the end. The end: a constant state with no escape. <<Axtlanadu>>