.

this breath.
what will one breath create?

or is my breath an altar?
my lungs enter more treacherous waters.

words roll.
break
and crash.
across your neck, flooding you now.

tightness.

slow and deliberate, my wrath comes today.

today now I watch.
no, I struggle for a line of her miracle.

this...
no, not quite...
no, this...this.

this peace removed
from oil and cleaned with oil,
dryed by human hand and
made dull with soft cloth.

justice surrounds me.
examples include steel and glass.
plastic vial. cotton within.
caught it waiting.


an egg sac introduced under skin.
and inside there's now plastic.
a womb dried in a village burnt.

                    Lord Almighty, lacerations and bonds tightening.

hidden in the spine (with hot glue & cross-stitching),
my old eyes make real
silvered ashen memories.

people looking at me.
people searching through me.

feel it at dawn.
                       (or you?)
and again before sleep leaves me behind.
                       (or before sleep, leave me behind.)
the Sandman's eyes open, now meeting mine.
                        (I'll leave mine behind.)

I could find Death!
I will hunt with your umbrella.

mistaken there in the waste can, also there behind that church wall.
now, stop for a day or is it today?

                           "sleep
                                                                                           (  blank area  )
                                                                                              small space
                                                                                         (  white border  )

                                       and dream"

                                                                her darkness moved my hand.

woken with force.
with a message to accept, but I
do not understand.

I should have listened closely,
but I do not speak the land.

                             's

falling raindrop, soon I'll be inside.
if night or day comes, that's when...
                       that is when I'll decide.

ah, sun's light on my face.
escort drives past, I've not seen nor forgot.
  "abandoned something"

I lower this spine, while watching thin heels
descend the three stairs.

my jacket I'll bring.
full moon shivering chills.
my spine will fold, will regrow, will develop sentience.
I would leave it behind.
the umbrella was bitter Fantasy's product.

goodnight sweet Prince.


some time for me, more about me.
my disfigurement.
my new itch to scratch.

the sun shines, rests sometimes in the instant
I close my good eye
or in the moment
I close my bad eye.
  one eye for clarity, my other for scrutiny.
      I use both for ascending.
where is this place now?

  is it there between the concrete growing?
                                        or perhaps in that warehouse spilled,
                                        no I should say spilling.

do not escape from light.
even coffins need guests, yes.
nothing grows without soil.

from nothing, soil grew without soil.

but...

                                        maybe now is not a time to tell you.