the search for bliss is over
one way or another
epiphany upon her
that leads her into space or underground

how are you doing? what are you up to these days? it’s nice to see you in this most lonesome place

i find that balance is achieved here in silence
or in the constant sound of the subterranean; a train passing afar
love of distant past or pain

the search for bliss is over!
finally over

a dissociated sound hums in awkward disharmony
it pleases, presently, not an ear
but nurtures mossy growth across guts of a population
who listen with cult-like enlightenment

when the bass descended with modest fanfare of plucked and buzzing strings
it announced the departure of the invisible figure
that lived where we thought we wanted to be

so long, ruler. it was your time
you had a meaningful life.
now i just want to be alone

and why would it?

expecting something from chaos
knelt on knees, as if words formed silently upon wishful lips
will create the world for you tomorrow

lives are spent
on absolutely nothing
all the time

a pause, rested against the mill hopper
behind the glass of an eye

these empty mornings
climb through a mindful shell- as passes a gust by bare branch

distant looming giants wade freely tantamount to possibilities
in the house of both existence and not
they flow before us like gods

i open my windows in October
when i sleep

i am alone

still candle flame through frosted stone

a warm milky glow
& cool crystalline air

these things weave me together

zephyr passes over the shimmering abyss
plots formed from images vacated

it’s what i breathe!

things that flash through my mind:
contemplative lips of a forgotten dancer,
bangs brushed aside,
a glance over shoulder…

                      ~

a spider beckoned me,
to show me the mandala he calls home.
he took what looked to be a deep sigh, and said,

inside and out, we all have gifts
to be given, or shown, or flashed through thoughts.

i asked if he could give me a tour.

SALVE
                           pungent and potent

             an emollient embrocation.

                           my sweet succor,

                   the
                           salve of my soul