Bottom of the stack,
first shall be last

each line has the potential to lead on, read on

confer, compare parallel ports pulsing in
synchronisity

goodness knows wrong ain't ever right,
nevermind whys and hows when
nows calling you by kind
ask attention
still

reader
read this, you are the few,
other than me, I know you allone,
Dear Reader, whose name you alone
may now know

in your one
integrated, tooled-up, read-up, curious
and curioser
self.
---
words hold whole thoughts in harness,
letters let them live,
writers make them work,

poets pay them mind to find reason and
metre in the spiral of knowing
growing steadily meeker
as peacemakers take

the call as op
portunate,
fortunate. Good for goodness sake and
no measurer yet devised,
no witty invention,

can make you listen to patterns
scattered in the noise,

still,
time keeps its steady pace, irreversible.

all parallel paths cross mine, eventual.

vente vide vince but (vente was the size
of my coffee, I think) I think,

history waves a banner, see

it says many wrongs
did not come
past last lie believer ceiving a source

of knowns unknown re

making, fect per effect ual, right,

the basic idea.
You have need of patience,

curios and kachina songs and liter
ary urges from words

once stuffed with meaning, right, like
each word is a clay jar,
a vessel for a thought spoken right,

as my servant, my re
feree confounding my accuser for ever,

in a word. Hide and watch, or sing and shout.

The basic idea claims any word may be redeemed,
but the utterer must give account for every idle word.

The house-dweller,
the non-nomad, who labors,
who efforts,
who sweats and frets and fusses over seed
sown in history
must first partake the fruit.
Not ever must an idle word be

let alone to fester in rot for lack of
a taster to test the truth,
a darer
of daemonic algorythms pulling

the very air, air, atmostfear away oh,

see,
the arctic ice is adapted to by the
basic idea that things survive
as life lives, within the
field named
HIggs,
worms hold out promises

see,
the arctic ice is the scab being
ingested slowww glacial slow, soon

weather will find the pattern.

All things work right,
nothing works wrong.

--
Lemme say,
for a while, as defined by mortals,

we taught. We words took no other pose,
played no role save to hold
ideas taken by men to serve a human plan.

'Sup.
That quest ion. How ahye? serves as well, but

Sup says more. What is up? op
positive to down, related to spins named
charming and strange for reason

known to a very few.

I am  waiting for the dawn to set
And the night to come
The stars to shine
Crowd to ****
So that I can search you
In the light of stars
By following their marks
From the distance constellation
Looking for your information
I wish you will meet me someday
And come around my way.

her eyes awaken before dawn
while her soul remains in transit
between unity and separation
between a painful, intense longing
and a pretense of indifference
that would temporarily preserve
her sanity.

she walks through crowds
all she sees are sounds and colours
passing by her numbed heart
keeping her head up, she witnesses
the blue horizons scraped by buildings
the zenithen sunlight lining every object
- breathtaken by a suppressed memory,
she unknowingly lets out a silent sigh
in place of an unmentioned name,
deliberately buried deep within.

often, she pauses her thoughts to view
the vastness of the world, in hopes
that it will cause her heart's unspoken
matter to be reduced into insignificance
and she won't have to live the pain
of remembrance.

yet, how could she remove the source
of her heart's peace, and yet, how could she continue living with the torment of distance,
of uncertainty, the eternal fear
that she would be forgotten,
before she forgets.

outwardly, her form is in good health
her speech eloquent, her posture straight
her eyes dry, her walk steady,
yet inwardly, she is paralysed,
her sickness grows each day
and at night, she drowns into
sweet memories of the unmentioned
as she tells herself that his smile will
return...even if only in her dreams.

her eyes close after midnight
while her soul remains in transit
between nearness and distance
between darkness and a light
that would conclude her wait
in all goodness, in peace.

I wait for you
As I walk with you
Some great divide holds you
To the other side
And I watch, holding my breath
While holding your hand.

A reminder -

It is still winter,
We are still in the thick of it,
Chains and snowshoes
are still requisite,
Imbolc and Candlemas
are still to pass,
Groundhogs hibernate,
Tarns still as glass,
The tumbling finch song
has yet to be sung,
and even the false spring,
has not yet sprung.

So lie still a while longer,
Let the chill freeze you through,
Warmer days will return
in their own time,
And so will you.

It’s simple really, a clear solution.
Clear enough to get rid of confusion.
Wait.
When the love you knew leaves you desolate,
Wait.

The simple fact is, you’ll never solve it,
Martyred anguish will never resolve it.
Wait.
When you think that you’ve lost your true soulmate,
Wait.

It’s a simple truth, despite what you feel.
Time hastens the better for you to heal.
Wait.
Love will come again, even if it’s late.
Wait.

Trust simplicity, don’t listen to pain.
If you loved once you can be loved again.
Wait.
Make your self ready to welcome your fate,
And…wait.