Comes the high discernment of what

won't be suffered.

The very life of it returns to be  

mercifully obliterated.

A frenzy of trespass righted, where

lines weren't.

A witness stripped of sides, swears by

seeing--to speak the unspoken.

A warrior cuts to first loyalty.

Never denying what is, never settling for

what is not--all else is premature death.

were that there is, there is--

a mountain

upon a mountain, upon a

mountain's back.

bowing weightlessly to the

highest tier of purple...

Mahadevi's morning sari

in the solitudes of night.

slipped on from a sleep deep

enough to lull sleep to waking.

locks flowing with arms a

long time come, holiest Mother

where everything registers as

she creates it.

all her watchful eyes prepared to

gouge themselves out, rather than

see harm come to her Heart.

the interiorized slow dance

of a crystal ball--lays curves

over the feathers of winged

serpents.

who are shaken into place

through high grass--the

directional pause of full flight.

a beating back ingestion.

their eyes melt into their skulls--

so the incense of ouroboros

may issue.

poor wretches of hallowed staffs--

transients of Edenic boughs.

coked up cars

snorted by the straws

of bridges.

psychobabblers diagnosing

current traffic.

high hate montage.

birds are talking

away through drawn

blinds.

they can see their

words way before

they hear them.

songs go a long way.

might I say I have

heard something I've

never heard before.

might I say.

if their words were

anymore candid,

their whole history

of flight would cease

to exist.

there comes an

awareness, so unto

and heavied...it alights.

slouching down on

a cross, so stark against

its white sky.

remaining at the foot

of  that hallowing

ground.

always hit by the first

drop.

It's like holding

on to a poem you

couldn't memorize,

while your phone's

battery went dead.

finding a pen in an

odd pocket of your

school bag.

to write your palm

into being, at the back

of a half-quarantined

bus.

to forget about the poem

by force of poems that rubbed

it out.

holding on to things.

I'm a waiting line--a repetitive grand

scheme.

Idle thoughts light each other's candles--

Buddhas line my intestines.

My sight offends karma, even the

darkness behind eyelids creates

pandemonium.

Holiness cuts in front & sometimes lets

me ahead.

Perspectival sin allowed to ooze from the

dots of die I suppose.

As a blind test reveals that only by

going mad, can one gain on the mind.

All I ask is that there's some semblance

of sleep when we fly from bed.

these once wizened strings
pulled by a dull blue balloon,
now wax poetic on a sky
secured by trees.
released in higher and higher resolution--
to blind birds, these lilting spring oracles.
bliss binges forgetting to chew the
***** of it, mad mouthfuls of life.
leaving gathered trails of love's chase,
precariously placed nests ragged
with the quick of it.
the faint sigh of flesh over bone can
be heard in the breeze, then inhaled
as honey gone to the brain.

A denizen of horror, a master of

ceremonies--bleeds out the sprinting

digits of a million clapperboards.

Relativistic rods of light showcasing

windows to faces that shouldn't be there.

As his corneas drop like glasses of

nightly milk startled by nonlocal

trespass.

He manages a robe that appears to have

been thrown on the fire of film.

His slippers split fake leather, as they

sequence what inches toward harm--

a screen's inn.

Which waits to reap a seeing.

His ears stock ashy twitters that scale

grizzly discoveries, like beef in a cow's

stomach.

Knowing that one staring at the back

of one's head, guarantees the back of

one's head being stared at in a theater.

With the proviso that there is no front

row (in reality).

He screams in the shower, not because

the water is too hot or cold.

There's something about a

death-obsessed animal sounding through

plaster & piles of brick--coupled with the

whole-body barks of a dog.

Which he loves to play back, as if a

third-party listener.

now the rain mimics the

sound of bird bones

settling in their houses

of feather.

or just as easily the other

way round--yet there is no

mimicry, just a connection

made.

that neither in their whole really

need, except it is good to allow for

such things.

in a time where wholes are taken

away, without a sound.

The plaintive surround can rinse
the deep space crush of Hubble's
score.
A fast-paced bandit's sable cloth
homing the absurdum of a priceless
presentation...eyes unawares wending
brilliant ways abruptly announced.
The common Light is not passable--
but is in love with eyes...the holy of
holies--rarefied districts commencing
willful overexposure.

a topsy turvy jig

repolished the patinaed

brass.

of a statue lent to liberty.

a humanoid eiffel tower--

with Atlantic hopefuls.

vomiting on her sandals--

here & there.

the: "'System"' is

suffering a nervous

breakdown.

widen your pinholes,

and clean your loops.

one out of One voice is

crying in the wilderness.

an unsharpened no.2 pencil--with a

half-chewed pink head, nary scalp itch.

pencils up...five minutes in, fifteen questions

of cardinal truth.

examination--subject: nondescript, grade:

nondescript, ambiguity: satisfactory.

pupil slowly drags his chair backward--after

holding both hands up for permission.

the wooden board soring his ***, remains studded

underneath, with undetected gum-chewing.

he walks to the front of the classroom, & places his

no.2 pencil in a manual pencil sharpener.

working it like a meat grinder, in this superimposition

of silence.

his teacher then excuses herself from a potpourri of

free ranging doodoo.

in a hail of reprimands--her pupil is banished back

to his test sheet.

where the excess of cleaning agents applied by the

school's custodian, probe his sense of smell made

vulnerable.

enter the metallic smell of blood.

as he undergoes a fountainous nosebleed--grabbing

the blank test sheet, to thwart the gush.

on sight...his teacher isn't sure whether to send him

to the principle, or the nurse.

the sun squares off the tiles of northern

European roofing--with the bucking

prims of tucked shadows.

the shred-throat jellied gurgles of

starlings, rehashing into piercing tweets

throughout the whitening gold of dusk.

the central tutelage of a silence, outlined

by sounds of inbreaking traffic.

you find a completely empty picnic area--
showing up dressed as a widow.
black kerchief wrapped around your head--
tied at the chin, a predominance of cheeks
with a buggy-bulge of purple horn rim glasses.
barefoot with a black dress on, obscuring
splatters of sweat: back/*******/paunch.
holding an ice sculpture of a fruit basket on a
ninety degree day.
you spread a white sheet & set it down, as
large ants congregate on this succulently
carved chunk of ice.
you then get naked, save for the black kerchief--
as if undergoing a strip search in prison.
sitting Indian style--chanting the sutras of an
emotional *******, while periodically licking
the melting fruit basket to sate your thirst.
until one of the large ants bites your tongue.

...time to loose... "This" time...
upon your very own endangered world.
an ice skater's triple axel...with no
round of applause.

the icy reception of fingertips pawed

on a face of intellectual mortification--

more like vacancy at the height of

its powers.

ie, ascriptive energy can be destroyed.

arguably the same as extremities

touching dissolution.

with that--today felt like an accidental

penmark on the back of a canvas.

it is not worth mentioning that today is

not over yet, seven minutes remain for

this contradictory statement.

spooked horses will run on two legs--

shinier than unction.

growing pale with the first idea of a

horse, which was the beast of their

apocalyptic burden.

a scream will re-enter their wide

necks, as if it never left.

they listen for it in every sound they

make, an open-ended edginess that builds

in them.

as everything is interconnected, the

apocalypse is akin to a traveling circuis.

which is to say that a place called earth,

is infinitely implicated--but by no means

exclusive to an apocalypse.

as is any other planet.

Truth remembers Truth, reveals itself to

itself.

Untruth forgets Untruth, reveals

itself to itself--as total destruction.

the idea of a horse is the same as the idea

of earth, ideas as pre-creation.