a fog descends, encroaching the mind
wisps lost into the haze: minimal visibility ensured
a strength without direction, meandering through forest
ice encrusts logic; hail bombards reason
i am left

solely with agony
bliss ignorance into incompetence
sheeps alone in a storm
awaiting some dog to provide direction
i ponder: why wait for consensus
if no-one cares to agree and ascend

bleached
beneath
a 10 kilowatt
moon
anticipating
geometry
the smell
of soap
that same
instant
calling into
question
bisexuality
without flesh
or
the vibration
of blood

the sun slumbers
on the rim of a straw hat

same initials

i don’t have the time
to wait for dawn

who’s promised to meet me
address unknown

life in the open air

i’m listening to another sea
at the depth of shellfish

you play with the ball without doubting it

sometimes
the sun goes down not far
from the shore

consider the folly of a thousand sunrises as
an appellation of your eyes—
i’ll think of moors and massifs as
a reflection of that
buried inside.

ambience echoes in caverns and
caves: i press my ear against
the wall and wait for your
sigh.

"--you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and
the time to
create."
no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.