fiction

[Mark Eaton]

this is a fiction. a topography of lies, a garden of delights. would it be
filled with deep folded lushness, the whimsy of reflected light. Perhaps
dappled trees to filter the brightness. Geographies are seductive. deign
to consider yourself seduced. seduction like whirlpools. Or like sirens...
do you know any?

Drowning? You do know about the magical world beneath the waves, don't
you? On the count of three lets hold our breath:

1 ... 2 ...

reminder: the topography is a lie.
reminder: this is a fiction.

and this text is what? A landscape folded back on itself? An attempt to
weave through gardens, to collapse topographies? the affirmation of
illusion over silence. Let us seduce ourselves, dearest Narcissus.

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eaton at sdf.lonestar.org