~
before, or behind,

the dream and god interspersing, location indistinguishable.


the combinatorial explosion makes us god-like humans,

only when we grasp that simplicity is the greatest complexity,

the surges, the mastering urges, the blending melding gradations,

are but dreams of god in our holy bodies all-encompassing ingredients.


fly child!

the horizon line approaching, it’s a goal or boundary, both,

where endings blending make us immortal for a few minutes,

when the good ghost says, “me and we, ain’t no difference,”

hot fever, leads to raging calm, euphoria transition to believing,

the god inroads revealed, visible in dreams, pixels so fine,

dreaming skin schemes akin to prayering, our knees touching clouds,

lying on mounds of red soil, my eyes sewn shut and yet,

I see all perfectly, for the dream of god, is now what we are...

~

7:15am
Jan. 31, the year of 2020 visionary


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2621313/explaining-light-to-the-blind/

human(e)

once upon a time,
it was a
sufficient condition to be
human.

no longer.

now,
it is a
necessary condition to be
human(e).


<…>

Vow-El
(e)

what would we be without Vow-El,
the God of all promises?

tongue tied consonant babblers incapable of uttering words of
prayerful tenderness,
without the essential precision tool modifiers of our pleasured
interactive mutuality,
unable to chant the sounds, the noisy paths of promise,
of allegiance and alliance,
that elevate the inconstant human to be empowered god-like,
to human(e)**




Jan. 24th, 2020
nyc+miami

I need a hug,
but not a quick,
lazy hug
during which the touch feels like less of a comforting gesture,
but more of an awkward happening
with limp arms hanging like gigantic weights,
pulling you into the floor.
Not one where you aren't ever really sure if you should hang on
for just a moment more,
or if you should let go,
and release into an uncomfortable silence
that lasts until someone coughs hesitantly.
The sound reverberating through the atomosphere,
leaving a heavy draft of atypical embarrassment at the contact,
waiting for someone else to bring up some random topic of discussion
to break the icy and heavy silence.



No.



I need a real hug.
The kind where someone who loves you see your pain
even though you might not say anything.
Reading the waters behind your smiling eyes,
seeing the hidden hurt behind your irises,
they grab you,
perhaps by your slightly shacking shoulders,
and pull you into their warm encasement.
Holding you tightly
and safely
in their care.
And the two of you just hang onto this affectionate moment
of profound concern among brethren of a species
The kind where time seems to stop
in admiration of this subtle outpouring of unified allegiance
before which the universe bows.
I need the kind of hug that demonstrates a fierce loyalty.
Devotion that knows
should the object of such intense friendship fall into the pit,
from whence none return unscathed in some way,
they will throw down a rope
a foothold
a salvation,
and they will pull that person from the depths of the darkness
maybe even at the risk of falling in themselves.



Yes.



That is the kind of esoteric gesture
that can be so impactful on those in pain,
regardless of whether that pain be great or small.
And should you find that you receive love like that,
treasure it.
And should you find that you give love like that,
never forget how special and rare someone like you is.

for all the lost, everlasting lovers

~for mara~

why this morning does the emoting
cast me backwards to all my lost lovers,
imagined and real, yet lasting in crevices hidden,
that beckon, asking to be reclaimed,
recalling when our names combined, many meetings
of lips, kisses so old, decades, yet so well realized

that to see, taste them, is blink, easily accomplished

day beginning, with deep penetrating glances rearward,
unclear how this clarifies the muddled visions of what
the future dreams may contain, ah, love and pain,
love and pain, a tango tangled tandem, indeed,
one hopes the past is prologue, pro for lips sensitized logged,
those kisses past, kisses yet dreamt, those works-in-process

stir the body to rise from the couch, to stretch my arms

up/skyward, grab jeans, go the Persian immigrant on the corner,
for a bun and a black coffee, who wishes me a good new year,
stunned silent when embrace him with hands-full, for his wish for me
enables a gratitude overcoming that only strangers can give;
those lost lovers yet lasting, thank them too, wish them happy year,
winter warmth, comfort them in my crevices-kept, forever retained

Love you, miss you, never gone, never forgotten, ever first,
everlasting...


1/3/20
7:11am