The Reverse

HAVING tired of the printed page,
I turned the book upside down.
Everything is interesting
In the mirror of perversity.
The w crossed its little hands on its stomach.
The i’s dots hung like a flock of birds
Disappearing into the bottomless grave of white.
The script was dazzling and unreadable.
Commas were quotation marks, confirming the suspicion
That everything said had been said elsewhere.
Like trees over water washing faces in jigsaw reflections,
The foliage of words washed its face in patterns.
Platitudes were flash ultimatums of sleight-of-hand,
The commonest word alive like a caterpillar.
There must be a dizzy reverse to everything,
With the silver linings all babbling of bedrock!