In murmurs we sank
dizzy minds torn out the day.
Then comes stillness,
as the breeze is heard,
variegated.

In beam treads autumn noon
Now the photographer laugh it out
Nothing seems to be captured
For she takes it
an overture.

“Why does the sun go on shining?”
An afternoon fervidity
of two thousands of miles
of away, of afar.
Where seaweeds stand no still,
a silhouette steers.

I turned down the tune.

in lagoon the lotus ruffles her wind.
in monotone the lizard shrills his song.
the wild goose homing,
slumbered rushes oozing.
hushed lie the sedges
of beamed nuvole, vapors creep
late cranes, heavy wing, and lazy flight.
Sail the silence beneath the nearing night.

I owe it all——
to the words unspoken
to the flow unseen
to the poet-insanity uncomposed
to the tunes unhummed.
On the way.

Azure thee afloat
Drizzles, alluded not
Absurd me adrift
Dreams, awaked not
Ahold see alight
Drowners, ached not.
In the way.

Around fire the Wa arised
syllables afloat, stories alive
Above fire the Wa aligned
steps abeam, songs alight
Amidst fire the Wa awaked
sparkling out, sprouting in
Cease me not

Behold the way, bet a say
Brick a home slumbered
whither for return in gusto
Blaze a tune of unity
weather harsh with vitality
Beam through ashes blew
Wa fire fueled the way found
Wither thee not

It knocks me out.

In tap, on tread,
mud you black
The mount knows our track.
In weft of brunet dye
flows the lapse defied
dancing a dance not our own
for a waft of strangers.
Memories ruffled in rusty voice,
melodies frozen off the echoes.

A small hand in a big one, the way home.
There grows crops, plants, and lives
picking, watering, handing, crunching,
In gentleness built upon nothing less than
the radiant afternoon sun creeping down the alley,
a melancholy tune, a melancholic loss
and a terrible greatness.

Hedged eyes I descry
your silence lingering on

a bloom not I sniff on its wax
yet soap in its name.
Is chime an echo
shuttling between shores clenched and surfs wrinkled?

Forthcoming. Impending. Violating.
Could thou help me to say this?
that I was in out of my depth.
Over-night granola, Mixed-berry fizz, Planet-Traveler hues.
Could thou let me shelve vacancy?
that I’d be sobbing for its mess.
Signature Choco cake named here sole with latte all around globe
some taste brewed here sole.
How hot and heavy and hazy
this existence savors.
But—
there is Thank you, the simple words that turns us into lamplighters
who walk each other home, through the night never seems to end
fluxing, always, always. after all.
before all.

A beam of apathy.

Hithernay I lapse in the liquid fear
of drifting afar from all flowed through me, a terrifying truth
that strikes, falters, and aches.
On shaft of daylight I look fine
but look behind my eyes, everything
is new until it’s old.
An osmosis of remembrance wafts across the lake frozen
I gazed tears streaming down its face
and was told: every metamorphosis a co-passenger brought you
continues the voyage with you on behalf of him.

Would I get over it?

Anon I find the galactic city model of the mind
too cold to defy
as I expend three minutes hesitating shall I do it or not
that could be done within the three minutes
so it’s left undone, with an ongoing groan.
I yearn for rationality is too spiny and messy and illusory
like a broadcast of self-deed that never ever pitch a well guess.
But—
nothing come decipherable until I seek
to return with hands empty of dictions indecipherable.
I love the debris of word that I don’t understand, that
I build brick by brick.
Euphoria stumbles in what is
and what isn’t here.

Chimeric.

This time, at ease I walk into the place scrawled by unfamiliarity
of all kinds, giddy, amorphous, variegated,
not without my muse.
Hovering, the Wayfinder exhales
an attuning overture,
an astringent taste of cacophony.
“Free is the feeling they can’t take from thee.”
a rustle not I shivered in
yet took a leap towards.

Through the bullet-spiked walls of unseen wars
analogy hums a thousand suns
as warriors bury a thousand letters.

The wind blows.

Tracking, violating, a little train on its way
to the E island for the ninety-fourth time this day
in this infinitesimal airport, this enormous node
converged of weaves of space,
meaning collided.

A young woman gazing somewhere not special,
until my sight aligned with hers: rail unravels
its skeleton as the train forwards
only as bitten by the steal heaviness, that
guises dumb voyagers, a heavy lightness
inside.

Tapped by sound, a haphazard feeling of mind, I
percept couples prattling in native English
from scattering finches called home
Drifting away or reflowing towards,
adjacency suspends in lenses of all.

Afraid
to envision the scent of seeds unplanted,
to dwell on questions without an answer,
to defy gravity,
I know you are too.

The wind blows.

Departing with my hue of strength found in all that I lacked,
a sprawl of bouncing breeze leaves my tune beneath the rail.

How am I to say such vigor
specious and amorphous and astringent,
effacing a landscape called yesterday
soon after some shut-eye,
then the jive suspends with
a dissonance creeping in coda
as the overture falls through.
If the clock is right or it feels wrong,
mono-tempo takes over anyway.
Now I see it when looking back.

Enchantment hedged a garden full of lush lives
that I didn’t even know I could ignite
until the season shuffles.
Had I hit my stride? Yes
I keep my head up, but No
I'm upside down, from the outside in.
Clouds that we glided by
are dropping through my hands like sand.
It left me hovering around a layover of sentience
less itinerant than fugitive,
brittle memos that
are in no ways oblivious.
You don’t know your words engraved but
I do.