The thread thee warp
shadow shall shade so
as silken cradles fade though
So soothing that I
lost the rest soaring

Fool’s gold never seems to keep its shine
as if shiver sun ray never stray
until down it bends
until up it flicks
Naively flow with waves of velvet and thorn
not until finding them its own.

Tuned tile, aged alley, clouded cement,
welcome
wander the sunlight
setting feeble rose and blue
adorning tranquil ardent and alive
soothing sacred faint to find floods of glow
announcing alienated savage to shelter sprouts of soul

a bloom not I sniff on its wax
yet soap in its name.
Is chime an echo
shuttling between shores clenched and surfs wrinkled?

Forthcoming. Impending. Violating.
Could thou help me to say this?
that I was in out of my depth.
Over-night granola, Mixed-berry fizz, Planet-Traveler hues.
Could thou let me shelve vacancy?
that I’d be sobbing for its mess.
Signature Choco cake named here sole with latte all around globe
some taste brewed here sole.
How hot and heavy and hazy
this existence savors.
But—
there is Thank you, the simple words that turns us into lamplighters
who walk each other home, through the night never seems to end
fluxing, always, always. after all.
before all.

A beam of apathy.

Hithernay I lapse in the liquid fear
of drifting afar from all flowed through me, a terrifying truth
that strikes, falters, and aches.
On shaft of daylight I look fine
but look behind my eyes, everything
is new until it’s old.
An osmosis of remembrance wafts across the lake frozen
I gazed tears streaming down its face
and was told: every metamorphosis a co-passenger brought you
continues the voyage with you on behalf of him.

Would I get over it?

Anon I find the galactic city model of the mind
too cold to defy
as I expend three minutes hesitating shall I do it or not
that could be done within the three minutes
so it’s left undone, with an ongoing groan.
I yearn for rationality is too spiny and messy and illusory
like a broadcast of self-deed that never ever pitch a well guess.
But—
nothing come decipherable until I seek
to return with hands empty of dictions indecipherable.
I love the debris of word that I don’t understand, that
I build brick by brick.
Euphoria stumbles in what is
and what isn’t here.

Chimeric.

This time, at ease I walk into the place scrawled by unfamiliarity
of all kinds, giddy, amorphous, variegated,
not without my muse.
Hovering, the Wayfinder exhales
an attuning overture,
an astringent taste of cacophony.
“Free is the feeling they can’t take from thee.”
a rustle not I shivered in
yet took a leap towards.

Through the bullet-spiked walls of unseen wars
analogy hums a thousand suns
as warriors bury a thousand letters.

delicate, beautiful, free

let go now, and fly

Until my voice shrivels up,
Until what breaks me is induced to make me,
Until I find gratitude in discomfort,
Until there is a cease to this fuel
cursed to burn forever,
In envy and greed,
Until a salivation is unearthed,
Until the trees dance and harmonize to my broken tune,
Until hope is found,
Until I am not a mere whisper that dies on the tongue,
Until in all hope lost a purpose is found ,
Until I no longer wish to die in solitude,
Until I question the reason to sing this medieval tale,
Until I halt and shatter and melt away,
I must sing this ancient song.

In the American justice system
there’s no such thing as an “open and shut case”
unless the defendant has no money.