I am lonely, yes lonely

Yet I do not stop

I do not stop

For I do not wish to offend

Offence that terrible conflict

Between commodity of self interest

And treasonous alliance of the heart

Offence an immaculate misconception

What meaningfulness

Of historical process

That undermines itself

With irrelevant ineptitude

Of the unpredictable

Concatenation of events

A resolution sought

Less with human intention

Than with achievement

Of contending collapse

Of its experience

And reflects the

Divine informalities

Of exuberant desire

To the snark

To dark it was

To spark

To misty

To behave

To easy

To set fire

To a Vatican conclave

To easy for others

To choke on scented smoke

To easy for the Snark who was not ashamed

To shout in eager chorus another fool have they named

To wit he laughed and strode away

To Snark…Snark…Snark…Snark…Snark

To be sure this is the noise a Snark makes when he walks away

To be honest if you meet one you will know provided he walks away

To be sure he may stay and try and eat you..........

What potions has thou produced

That makes the hottest

Of all summers in my mind

Causes global shifts of dramatic register

In my being, yes and brings to rebirth

A series of discontinuous functions

Tell me, tell me what is this potion

That strays the clocks at noon

And brings a vagrancy on the day

And by night prevails in scarlet custom

Whose crimson vale does me entangle

When stars are opt to play

Bringing a rampant start to the

Extinguishing of the day

What brief utterance this, the color of time

That gives more meaning than language can hold

To force a confrontation between unresolvable contradictions

Such as make malleable a gracious hospitality to ******

And sound trumpets of unwarranted discord

That lie and lament the reputation and experience of damage

Hold forth the envious clouds of displacement

To provide for the vicious energies of hate

Those oppressive weights of past problems

That enactment of intense and exhausting experience

Which embalms the tears of fresh bleeding

Without impediment dictates the human existence

Where the mistress of aggressive thought finds

Extremity of dire mishap a strenuous protest

Leads to well meaning certainty of illusion

And asks, art thou so in love with masks that you

Would transform thyself and as such

Bind a loyalty of angers to thy touch

An entrenchment of truths

That hold forth a funeral table

For gracious hospitality

Of gentle nostalgia

In indulgence of murderous affection

Which manifest adequate

Yet uncomprehending grieving

Ambiguities of advocacy

In their extreams of moralizing warnings

In fleeting appearances who tell bold lies

In the mosaics of enclosed palaces

Presenting bouquet upon bouquet

Of black flowers on this weighted table

Truths that have been deprived of their vein stone

Truths owned to identity of embodiment

Surreal and interchangeable

That resonate in timely dissorder

Like the noise of migrating birds

Flying to the edge of the world

I have made memories of myself

Salvaged, translated and translucent memories

Like dust twirls that spiral

Revolving in the rays of a white sun

Through wooden slatted windows

While the heaviness that hangs

Hunted shadows over me night and day

Refuses to lighten

Real and imagined codes and expectations

Imposed themselves on me

I have become mirrored in other peoples' reflections

A shadow cast by moonlight in a memory