then she looked at me, gazing
with a vigor that collected my scattered thoughtstream

and, fixing her stare, she said:

what if we tabled our demons?
Pulled up a chair for them? Got to know them, instead of
trying to vanquish their persistent presence?

and setting upon my worried head
sat something like
the quality of being wise; it inscribed

lithe formulation with a depth, true.
and i knew,

then

the types that once arched so high, so vaunted in blue,
were mere sets of symbols
induced with the incantation of a brow
steeped in trickery of the highest order.

i, jus now, walked to the store to get some water
and - it's weird but - the sun
  hit
me: and, somehow, i felt
detach e  d no more;
one lit plane, arrayed
beneath my sandals

and walked my feet
along the woven pavement, which had
either come alive at that moment or
had always been so and i just never noticed it before.

but then, i felt

some weird s i d e inside of me grind
its bony armor, elide the light, and
glyph into existence, dark. it spoke; it wrote

me down. it captured me with an adroit hand. it
fed me lines. lines. lines. lines brighter than star proximal.

my insides stood divided.

i got home
and drank
the water: straight from
the jug.

her heart was artifice and true
and my hand
caught one fleck from its flex,
only to, then, release it:

as blue words burnished by flight.

i've never been able to
  fit in
anywhere, not really -- not with friends, not with family, and
not with

lovers.

me: freak; lots of leaks; knees hugged; tears, none left.

my superpowers consist of
hours

w a s t e d

awkwardly.
boxed in by this, my silly imaginarium.

i feel so small.

i mean, after all, my
heart
is missing from my chest.

i am
  eater of space: plenum

for
  your
plenty.

while driving up the coast on rt. 101 the other day
i happened to look out of the passenger window
and saw this
  weird
patch of sea
that was -still- and utterly

p l  a c i   d.

ebb and flow had become
  static nebula mirror,
penetrating the
apparent
blue sky lie; and my sad looking eyes,
were, now, less observing:
looking through  

g l a s s melt

and: my rotted heart composted forth
the most beautiful lilies wi l t ing;
its petals falling
upward
into the glinting red circle circled in the mirror below it.

we are not atoms in the dark
we are not Adam's in the garden
we are not Atman's in the seat of kosmos

we are adumbrated sound, found in this form;
light in the n o   w.

my body contorts
along white bedsheets boasting basic blue flower print.
i stretch, without direction - fingertips reach cosmic deeps, i think.

curtains mostly drawn; one sliver of sun let in.

globular of lonely, swung
out into this far-off nook of hook and warm-no-more:

i am, now,
chemical alter
on the downswing. where
is my attraction?

stuck in space
deep,
pitted in sleep that wakes the Fates (that do not exist),
only bored ice dust and
lifeless true blue neutrinos swarm about my body.

i used to have pull;
gravitational cool.
now i am tons of tundra,
acres of bleck lol melodrama,
a mess, always
in bed:

it makes me.
it always has.