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  Feb 19 Sean Fitzpatrick
Onoma
treetops pass their

basket--

light to the nodose

pit of round.

pillared trunks

sprouting into one

another.

come maximums of

height.

contoured chione

apto pnuema...

hand off touches of

wind to the ground.
*Inspired by a revelatory hike~
See me, this one says, see me, look you
in the eye, eh, thinking,

spring, the season, the greening of
the playa's ancient shore, east of me,

east of my evergreen valley, barely
any bare gray wintery bushes and trees,

flash of magnificence once manifested,
on the shoulders of the priest-kings,
infectious proud flesh pomp and
circumstance, watch the war
god-man made glorious in
storied, seen once,
not invisioned, imaged
from tiny feathers, adhering
to a topological fabricated
RED FLAG FLASH
humming bird head
feathered serpent cape,
on a bright day signaled by the hummer
- see, I have returned,
- this is like heaven to me.

the one from now, same code, same init
see me, look, see, once this was the most

vibrant, slow mode, inspiring light imaged,

portrayed, cloaking the priest-king god-rep
more lustrous than any high summer
cathedral rood crossing patterns,
in undeniable beauty and artistical luc-if-ity

windborn grammarless, musical, meanings,
mid point, saddle points between waves
that reflect from hummingbird feathers,

indicating fair weather weathered the storms,

fretted not a second on the journey, yep
when I get to Pep's porch, there'll be
sugar in the feeder, two minutes later.

After I remind a mind is a many splendored thing,
but none more splendored in prophesy than making
sacred hopes formed from the fi NAND gated mythos,

whither men and hummingbirds mind meld, tune in,
to imagine the effort required, to tilt your head,

just right, to flash my muse. Let time pass.
Suddenlies and instants are cognates.
Gained a lot
From all the
Processed
Words
Put
In my mouth...
Now
Nothing
Fits
Toxic ways people speak
I am nothing but a silent darkness,
Unheard and unseen, I wish to never return
Even when I leave, there's nothing to feel
Even then, I leave with no joy or glee;

I've been existing in Sheol alone,
The place of unjudged and abandoned,
Even God doesn't shine his light here,
I have been praying into the void;

No matter how or why I move,
I'm always where I was,
I am both Sisyphus and Hades,
The condemned and the executioner;

One fine day, the weight will do it's duty,
The human form is delightfully mortal,
The comedy finally completed,
Sheol will be empty and judged.
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