these initiations

of times and places

are triangular.

an inner or outer

touch to the fore-head

blinds as it blows away

a desert's glass maze.

transparent unto transparent.

i consider it an

honor to have been

hailed both: lifebringer

& death.

by such a one.

almost like reading different

sized letters on a chart in a

doctor's office.

while covering one eye, then

another--both given the opportunity

to see and not see.

this strangest of mutual poetry.

the wise don't wait on:

let it alone, as let it be.

they are all that remains,

at all times.

if a Muse is

true, it peers at your

art.

at it, from it.

arresting all development,

every vocable angle.

not merely representative

of life, but her in full.

surrender leaves

its own word without

a trace.

while meeting the call

of the called Home.

we who come around

to the same point.

overcome by all things

possible, i in fact know

you from somewhere.

i want to give this to you,

but you already beat me

to it.