Sifted words with softly-softly meaning, fall.
And maybe, maybe are easy enough to sweep away-
but they leave a thin film,
like settled dust.
They leave a thin film- and
I have to touch.

Help. If that is a question,

and quests are journeys from here to there and back,
again.

If and. A state of hesi oddness,
yes,
we exist in spite or spirit of
our creator, eh?
The craftsman's due.
Muzzle not the ox that treads the corn.

Pay the piper, if ye dance, ye know ye did.
No need to lie and say you know better,

you became more like yourself as you aged,
who made you be you?
Who do you think you are?

Aha, Pinocchio, Punch 'n' Judy… no, no Stepford
wife, but a reason for the wish, clown collector meet my
Curio store clown,
Kohari,

Can we handle a different true?
Kohari, looks you in the eye, a god message,

come up the ladder,
tell me no lie, or I
shall laugh out loud in your face, you don't know

squat, dung, **** brings stars to your ai
respectible eyes,

but this is the medium, the way, so to say, we came to
help
get past actual standing under knowns,
and begin walking into the rest
that remains to be known,

by those who see by faith invisible things form
into substantiated realms of sensation,
sense, common,
is felt known
--- safe here, asif
no miles to go,
this were home, and sleeping, now,
is safe.

God exists, this one I know for sure,
And though to some ‘tis may sound to obscure,
The evidence beheld I of his style
Though ‘tisn’t
too easy to express; just listen:
I was waiting for my friend,
We at the moment did intend
To go and do some exercise
At somewhere’s gym; but never mind;
And so was standing I, awaiting,
Amidst the square donned with the snow;
It crunched and crackled at my step,
The birds with wings above me flapped,
Some children bumping to each other,
Aside - theirs smiling mothers, fathers,
Some riding horses, big and little,
Of peddler’s goods the cheery brittle;
And just behind the row of birch
Emerged Of Holy Father Church;
This not my job to you describe
The Beauty of this fairest sight,
But ‘twas the good, the solemn site
Of modesty; and sheer delight
Derived the every one by-watcher
Who had a fleeting chance to watch her;
And so was I as mesmerized
As filled with ever-baffling fright
What one within so often may
Carry throughout the whole long day;
But wait and hark, for ‘tis important, just when the bell began to chime,
Converging everything, the time,
The place, the sight, the proper moment,
As if of something Greater token,
From sky so high above me then
The snow to fall from there began;
And was so tranquil that a scene,
That drove away my inner spleen,  
That I became with thought conceived
That some Great True was t’me revealed

When I was a youth
I was ambitious
to be recognised
as a know-it-all,
and so I often spoke
beyond my experience,
speculating when I did not have experiential-evidence;

Now that I’m wiser,
I never speak beyond the evidence
of my experience.

I enjoy collecting evidence of God
rush of a feeling that it’s all going to happen soon
I’d be a liar if I didn’t fess up
your eyes helped show how soon
love the old songs, like em, don’t belong to none
not afraid, are you? implore on
for everything, expect expanses wide as nothing
just as it has always been, drift with this smoke ribbon
into the dream called now is all

myopic frames on a stern temple remind me that once he too wandered recklessly and felt ardent
empowered by time on his sleeve
there was nothing he couldn't conquer and nothing standing between the open air and breathing it in
i suppose the difference here is i grab the breath of air and hold it in my pocket for when i stop being so nervous

marshmallow heart
the road only goes one way and the streetlights hover and coil eternally, you can never meet the epilogue
a drive-thru drink in one hand while you feel your hair tangling into a mess of a beehive, the one that likes to unwind in soft tendrils on a weak pillow
heart racing for the constant fueling of a near empty tank telling you to go further this time, this time
time isn't yours


holding in a cough
i too have tried to drown waterbugs
my cheek pressed against the tiles of a kitchen floor, hand perched languidly as my fingers make circles in the tiny swamp i made in the middle of the room
but i forget laying there until i hear my own soul walk in with bare feet addressing the elephant in the room, the one that hasn't left since i was sick with bronchitis that winter years ago
and i want to tell her to come here, to come back inside myself so it doesn't feel so cold this season of frost but she brushes me off with the temperament of a child
"i don't exist, i never did" the words dawdle back and forth from her back molars to her incisors  
and i remember when i felt like i was dying when i hopped from one state to the next but realizing a little to late that if i were to go back my dread would jump on the back of my shoulders and force me to look it into it's shiny face and show me the mild nuisance of what it means to be alive
so my soul closes the door and i hear the keys rattle and i myself sink into the warm arms of someone i spent my entire life with