ABSINTHE COLLISION

how do i say this?
another curve for my flat plane 
masquerading as a straight line
as deadpan as the gospels
in my knapsack
of improbables.
what am I now?
now that my wings 
have forgotten the sky
and my perch
is a hole?
how do i do this
and not conquer
the world
with a wailing
or an unpolished
facade?
an absinthe collision
a dream on a pile
of other dreams.

and something i forgot to do…
undone.