it's been left to Us, what stayed

under Our eyes--as this world in

count foregone.

where's the charioteer swept away

by Our coitus, He weeps for the

colorless and scentless petals that

we consummate our love upon.

we will never again die alone...Our

Union will remain upon letting go,

no more a wilting form cut by the slash

of the mouth bereft of breath.

we breathe the breathless breath into one

an other my love...keep me, as I keep you.

A hammering that

keeps time with dirt,

a racket no one can

complain about.

Words like a

nail-studded coffin--

just to make sure.

A finalization determined

to never have been.

This place is time...
as this body is mind.
The sun's only a
kernel of truth...
lent to ever greater
truth telling.
The Candle that lit
the candle can't be
found...only the
iconography of a native
surround.

Atonius Block,

sixty-four squares

deep.

in black of white, in

white of black.

kingdom crawl.

Prone as skin skimmed

by sleep...

breathy prayers speedily

mouthed, kissably close.

As delicate wisps of hair

tug at their root, swearing

north is truth.

They steer their ghosting plex--

as he sub-screws up his face,

he doesn't want to go.

A hard sell, with a soft shell,

and neither or.

Knee deep in earthen slop--
down of downpour, knees protracting
as bulbous nodes, stiff with implanted ****.
We both, and as for what inhibition--what
wind betook our love, deaf to the sound
of tremulous waterlog?
We who memorize separate passages of
each other's lives--now cite them with
pleasure's other, we both as one...now as once--not without pain.

Prelude:
From Fullness swathing, wake left
in wake of...truly, there is no passing
but an Emptying of Fullness.
...Needless to say, ecstatically
vibrating...you have all the blessings
silence can muster.



Could, I would...imbed this sky
in memory, self-proclaim its radiant
blankness upon it.
That I may be what I see, already
in memory of me, though I've come
to know and love...that any personal
touch, is yet an impersonal one.
Bless that which was drawn in, and
drawn out...lay the heart entire upon it.
We are the Knowers of things that stand,
and tilt by degree momently...we are
the Knowers of the last leg, lest it
overstep that which it's overstepped by.
Fit for us, as every other--momentously,
equally fit...the call to life is what silence
took as her deepest secret.
Nothing could wrest this burden from
her hands, for she loves it as her self...
therefore restores what she holds forever.


~Om Namah Shivaya~

There's this feeling
of being known
completely,
only when you've
become inconceivable  
to yourself.

an orange koi

swims in a

sapphire jewel.

transduction of

positive karma.

rippled refractions...

welling surface sparkles.

ase me isycho...

tora.

na thelo--

gia na pio.

mesa--oto dasas.

gia poeiema:

Onoma~

Clementine forgot

her spot in the sun.

As she sits on it like

Raggedy Ann.

Catatonically

unblemished.

Envision a trembling
hand within, holding
a mirror to inner life...
this goes everywhere
with us.
Yet you are everywhere,
consider the paradox...
inner life proves its
transcience as it passes
through us...we're
unquantifiable.
We're both larger,
and smaller than life.

Sunday, grey as
the after-ash
of joy's taste.
The nervous systems
of January trees
look in shock,
light rooted to a
lightless kingdom.
Their surveyor sits
at the rear of a bus,
vibrated by a monstrous
engine, dumb with dual
force.
Bracing for all kinds of
impact, psychic projections
hung all over this city.
No eyes for what is, these
burnt slits...routinely barred
from the last entrance to
space.
A reified prayer sine qua non.

Why does Truth
always reveal itself...
because it remains
present to the
last layer.

Chafed sticks forested--
lunar sliver threads tied them up
as to bundle with conviction.
An angel gone rare loaded the
forest upon its back...slumbering
birds shook awake midway to
heaven.
Played through the angel's lattice
of light, their throats the musical
prodigy of their carrier.
Darkness went off the air...static
was the break of a pieced together
sound barrier.
The earliest rustles of echoic being
ran down the place all spaces meet.
Such uplift is not imaginal, but the
all-encompassing care of...things
trying the patience of their mold.
This is the desolate you...daylong
giving birth to the search party of
you...that rare angel shaking free
the residents of desolation midway
to heaven...for a song...just fine
with spending itself--you on you.

impossibilities seem

to wait for me at windows

like long lost loves.

as if their forms were dependent

upon first sight of me--to throw

all their weight in my arms.

almost like when the sign of the cross

is made in the air, an explosion occurs

whence those lines cross.

there i am, entrusted to the movement

of mountains--but i'm a bit tired.

just looking for somewhere to lay it down.

O to commit
this cross-examination to
memory.
From spark to
ash...lays parameters
to the all-consumed.

The Head

of the

table

excuses

the least

hungry

ghost.

To feel days on
end as quivering
water...to wear air
as a body of
feathers.
To see an
egg in a snake's
mouth, whose
retractable jaws
slip a world
down its throat.
Gathers leavings of
light...
showing one
gently to the door.

Of blood and apathy,
as water left running...
heedlessly.
Of blood and apathy,
as water left running...
heedlessly.
Of blood and apathy,
as water left running...
heedlessly.
Warm then cold...so
**** cold.
As if the human race,
is survived by the human race.

As a string
bound by
musical ends...
left to peak
its sound.
Stilled,
unbound by
musical ends...
sound struck
silence, silence
struck sound.
Shoring beatitude
to shoreless, shores.

As stars uncuffed from

their silver circuit...speeding

off into a legendary openness,

to long live a single look

of no return...

man o man, woman o woman.

Queens is now

like the 1985 film:

"Legend".

when spring began

wintering.

Tom Cruise proposing

to Mia Sara, while

the ring goes down the

bottom of a lake.

he jumping headfirst to

retrieve it.

so ghouls can break into

homes.

with petals becoming

too rich for their flower,

or trees--or grasses hued.

unable to pick sides.

i-I-i love that flick.

Cut from a moment's charge,
legion with motion...
the sound of a knell held
full sway.
Receiving ends of sound
cried what they could never
qualify.
In answer, and in answer--
adjoined questioningly...
to nonentity.

for starters...

a Spartan beheads

a stoic to make sure

silence is kept.

this goes on, over

and again.

until Leonidas cracks

a smile.

My prayer's completed by bounty of Light.
I've no capacity to forgo the eternal--
who am I?
As all of me I give in response, and all of
me trembles at the illusory border to define
such.
It is this life given me whose illusory border
trembles, I mustn't suffer that border lest
I concede The Way prepared for me.
My prayer's completed by bounty of Light.
I've no capacity to forgo the eternal--
I Am, the Who will take care of itself.