while taking a pickax to a polaroid

while taking a pickax to a polaroid, i stumbled upon a labyrinth selling gordian knots
to scissors and in keeping with the custom, storms were having tea in the billiard rooms
that never let you in. there’s a german whirligig pumping dunkel into open palms.
and kites eating trees 
for no other reason than
I said. so
if you look in the cracks embedded in your mirror
you might come into focus. a blade of grass told me that.
had overheard a melting snowflake
losing its damn mind
in the sun.