many mistakes
uncultured met eyes bleeding decency. by phantom in his brains by something
imaginary, as we undergo its conversation; it can’t be real, I’m hearing my
soul, humans can’t have a spirit. if I listened, I need, must know, one as
sage, as guru. many pride concrete. they live in tension. they hang on edges.
sheer panic facing
mirrors like a ghost in the skylight. mental adversaries, as haunted houses, it
originated inside. a shaman laughed, a good chuckle, sparks flickered afar.
eating banshees
unrealized a carnival in the front quarters. so tender her palm so complete our
suffering so swift to battle—a war inside a series of gates I keep escaping.
time’s up blue-turquoise eyes, capturing something indistinct.
over lunch spotted
myself I ran after my apparition, those souls, unheard voices, alphabetical algorithms.
some swami, gazed further, spoke clearly: Be not afraid. You have faced you!
Much was neglected.
a pot of vinegar a
plate of garlic, myrrh and mirth. I see ghosts too much liquor it hurts to feel
ostracized—no one listened, unless inclined, it becomes introspection to yogis.
I never saw you, I
sensed you, it was pleasurous to meet and us unknow each other. rabid in a
jacket like deep in unfinished science. so tangible right in his face he had a
time denying himself.
never a soul so
many souls in and out close and further.
like a passage to
gods like orphic journey like clear glass coffins.
it went sour, so
wrong, we froze in space—alive, eyes blinking, unable to move—some atop,
holding in terrors, I awoke soundless.
one watched at
pain sweet laughter, it’s all untrue. warring to make it, escaping tenderly, I sit
in a chair another interview.
