This poem is taken from Stand 224, 17(4) December 2019 - February 2020.

Alex Wylie Poem
Fantasy #3

I

Unquiet spirit, why do you vex
me with non-ex-
istence, King of France Complex,

whisper, doggedly, of not-quite-being,
and thereby bring
yourself about, as from a Big Bang

(or Tiny Pop) darkness
out of darkness    
like a black hole? Maybe a weakness

or loophole in logic
made you, a necessary magic,
out-of-nothing cabaret-trick,

self-production from the self-same sleeve:
a dazzling move
even for The Great Jehovah,

stylish as a clinching paradox,
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