To Wit, Split

I'll ascend to it again: 
earnest eagles can't tell
what a story is compared
to a dead rabbit. 

Alice didn't never 
land; neither did 
she look through
glass.

Carry sense to non
and it will go back
down the mountain,
careening to up again.

Undone as done, 
rerun as stunned,
a good turn gilded
until the silvered tong.

Dada, remade,
undone, unbade,
my monster once
upon the time.