Infinite Moments Poem by Daniel Y.

The cycloptic observer is a trapdoor spider.
The hunt takes patience and timing.
My cousin camera raises to his chin.
Snapshots ring motionless.
Bodies stuck on flypaper, and smeared in time.
These infinite moments carry the weight of memory,
and yet take up space.
Bookshelves and cabinets,
and the crevices of random access.
He journeys home free.
Nothing but his camera as a friend.
The two wheels he carries,
fit snuggly as tennis shoes.
That black glass eye, becomes his face.