things seem
shallow, lacking detail, arousing intensity. a strange combination, it has no
root, it’s most temporary, most illuminating. I have nothing but something to
dress in words—these creatures, entities, they tend to plead, cry, beg for
understanding. eyes seem hungry, I could assert lonely, made by courage. three
parts. three dungeons. we call out to faith, lasciviousness, more uncertainty.
a man was deep literature. we know his type. most things are incorrect. a
drawer filled with watches, a silent/alarming ceiling, an old yoga mat—in brains
are echoes, I imagine you sing, I make second person personal. facial
awakenings. striking beauty. at a point suspicion has become priority.
too much to dream of you. too little to dream of you. too much to appear to
you. I pine. not much. I don’t know your insanities. like fresh air in morning
dew, our bodies naked before awakening. so core its blessing, so pure its
reception, it seems we outwit happiness. Blasphemy!
I have many with
me, faces/voices from years ago pressing into my life. I have psychs, shamans,
yogis, mystics, Christians—they arrange a consensus, a round table, I often
consult them. I speak a secret, one we never admit, some things might frighten
us; to know depth, style, measures of brains; to feel connectivity, in mere
habits, to sense a collective germination. one might say, “Blasphemy!”
a caring soul is
heavy at portal a grandmother trying hard to shelter innocence. once it departs
one looks differently one becomes an evolved, uncertain spirit. a feeding is
necessary. feeding self. if not, instincts will lead to pain, a grave. we’re
more than animals/instincts, we float/fly/fury into our elevation—to live,
relive, to die, to breathe, to love, to hold, to define love. what more do you
expect? Blasphemy!
I met a person. so
combative. walls just listened. recorded in remembering, hearing, “Remember,” something
obscure causing men to chase for over fifty-years. maybe a few secrets. we
might concede. at least a few secrets. Blasphemy!
