11-F-15
The eyes cause a certain delay
So oft they are let to wander away in their play
Poor mind
It can practice “command” all it likes…
It is a mess of wanton movement,
at once an electric bolt,
and at once a lolling stone
Category: word formations
warmed by the Grey Sun
IAM not a man
iam not a woman
IAM.
a whole of every quarter
My children will kill me in ritual or in vain
Will your own light burn you alive,
or the lofted house
made completely of rose petals invite?
Our honesty’s gnashed with white electric teeth
The unbelievable is round round and beating down your ancient box
Paradaisikal reflection
in gilt shop windows
reaches out solemnly to touch
You
from your periphery
while the Earth
curves up
around u like the stork’s stock swaddling cloth
warmed by the Grey Sun
/Artist/ the absorber or the bad luck of humanity
other
animals dont seem so discerning
or mentally fancy
as to
fall prey to karmic play
Do something for oyur fellow SELF,
that they may not struggle
for the fault of one’s undoings.
That their struggle IS
one’s struggling and to say
that
no one will be turned away
Surrender thy final possessions to
the UNTOUCHABLE
STILL UNSAID &
UNSAYABLE
Give THAT to the Invisible
Take up the sullied name
Write over it with gold ink
Assume the form of the angel of Truth,
Sophia’s pink child
swaddled in her clothes
and slowly sifted
through the flimsy cracks
of a demokratikally induced reality