Greetings @d-pend. From a loaned computer/connection at a place where electricity used to be reliable (next to the hospital), but which last night alone experimented (I just was told) 4 blackouts. Let's see if I can write my comment before the next blackout.
As everyone else has pointed out, I think all your poetry is experimental, even the ones that look "conventional" (sonnets, couplets, etc.)
The most noticeable aspect of your experimentation is "lexiconic," which infinite as it may appear, can be narrowed down to morphology and syntax. You like to play with word formation and spelling and word order.
If we add to that this sort of divertimento aspect of your poetry, then of course, you drive your readers crazy.

This poem however, I want to simplify it via a sophism, and then complicate it with the exposition of its paradox.
If ordinary infinite is a rabbit hole (factory) and ordinary love is the infinite, then ordinary love is a rabbit hole (a place for the unknown, for the deranged).
The title is paradoxical because there is nothing ordinary about the infinite, but if (and considering that @d-pend likes math) as in some experimental mathematical operations 2 may equal 1, then the ordinary and the extraordinary can be equalized.
I think there is some intertextuality worth exploring here. On the one hand the obvious reference to the most famous rabbit hole (Alice), on the other hand, I see some references to other poems by @d-pend that echo some of the key concepts here. I have noticed a reiteration of some images or notions. There is specific mention to “ordinary love” in Forever held by ever spell; in Unforgettable love is called a “tactile fortress”, and I read this as tangible, real.
A possibly contrasting facet is mentioned in many other poems, such as Paintbrush soul as “life’s infinite behest; in Intermediary Scribe there is a longing for preserving “the other world/with gesture rich:/ prevent the land to fade; and in World Drops there is an allusion to the “looking-glass” (hard to avoid thinking of Alice again) and to “fate and fantasy”.
Thus, there is already a recurrent tension between the real and the imaginary, the material and the ethereal, the physical and the spiritual. We are driven down this rabbit hole of words, falling disorderly (in theory), with some contrived and intrusive pauses (almost mockingly), allegedly to help us (like Alice was) make sense of the chaotic elements seen down the rabbit hole.
As in Alice, puns and ambiguity account for the complexity and humor of the text:

Negated pensivity
of holed lectures,
paintpeel—
levitation of crumbs.

I read this as the denial or deprivation of critical thinking under the auspices of intellectualism; whether they are entire (whole) lectures, punctured (incomplete), boring, or hidden is subject to interpretation, but it is just an example of how complex language and what we mean with it can be. Knowledge can be the peeling of the paint to reveal what lies beneath or it can become the paint itself that covers it.
And I’d better stop here cause I won’t be able to post it (blackout).
I think the poem invites us to dream and seal that factory of dreams for ever, gnaw the rind of deity that protects or hides the sap of life; love what is at hand, what is ordinary, not an idealized all-powerful figure that can become the negation of our own existence.