Buffed...walls...wearing white.
A veiled vandal given chase sprayed a
pitch black symbol...
an unfathomable spectatorship
poised upon: OM.
O how Fields Unify...New York mOMent.

There's the mosh...sordid details that thing...
creeping of sort...retelling...to stay in focus.
A silent film whose black borders encapsulate
a  slab of skyward white.
Visages...opening...opened...to interpretation.
"The apparition of these faces in a crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough."....ashen...
daguerreotype of a Zen Garden.

All of nature's pretties cast in an occult brew...
stirred, and stirring...composite sketches posted
and burned upon lampposts.
At large...ritualistic making-of-face...illusion
trafficking the ever present primes of lives...
"the center of which is everywhere, the
circumference nowhere."...attestation o' mugs.

Visages...plucked from a year of our lord,
to be...rendezous of all light's putting to...
years thereof.
Alien unto thyself...oogly boogly, yet mirror-imaging...
behold/beheld/beholden.
By sleight of Hand...visages, who'd otherwise
be as soon pruned and leathery, inanimate under the
sun.

...WHO GOES THERE...fires back
flesh and bone.
The vacuum of self-hood in
abhorrence...I was, and wasn't the preemptive
strike of an inmost/out-most take that could...
but should not have.
Yet...this nagging cart blanch informs everything
issued.
Absolutely flawlessly.

...Please don't...try to move another
human being as dead weight upon
a polarized black/white chessboard.
Our here...and...NOW...is too charged...
(again...TOO CHARGED)...and will
demand an equanimous outcome.
Trade the object of perception for
the Subject of perception wherever you
may be...perception itself must dissolve
into its chessboard...O Consciousness...
O God!!!

...Illegible signatures scrawled...perturb
the maven.
Of years in the lighting...Bodh Gaya
ceremonial candles looking at the same
four winds.
An earth gone Up...only as You would,
and will have it...alighted withstanding.
Your very presence of consciousness
(which is a mere drop) makes the
Ocean of Consciousness rise...with sheer
volume...God bless you all.

The plaintive surround can rinse
the deep space crush of Hubble's
score.
A fast-paced bandit's sable cloth
homing the absurdum of a priceless
presentation...eyes unawares wending
brilliant ways abruptly announced.
The common Light is not passable--
but is in love with eyes...the holy of
holies--rarefied districts commencing
willful overexposure.

The preemptive strike of being...Light...
the most refined of matter.
...Look...and the glass shall shatter--
as transparent modalities gladly relent
their spaces.
...As Everything moves in...being moves
out...only to mismatch a coming and
going...there's nowhere to go...there's
nothing to be, we've already been Lovingly
found out...Look.