A poem
it will escape as a bird
your next notes painted on photographs
of mint velvet

and mine

mine

will do as it pleasez
no rules dangling charmingly
upon my ankle
icing up my tattoo

a Hindu ****
who believes in *****
but not in mankind
not himself

it dies ashed
stuck to a flytrap
diving the room into
dark and light
red and green
cold and hot
but cut slice the floor with your foot
as you're reading backwards
into a pool of ink
that droughts
and ... nothing

was/is left!


.. that is,
nothing--
but my hula wrists
twists and beats
waves

Light is both small particles and waves.
So it is

that
I AM.