function here in waves,
playful rose of fractal dance between the ashen
i-am-nesses fused --
what else can say existence
like you   are like me?
that atoms mine are yours
coinciding kinds
in kind collide in braving symbols wide.
no interference holds amid the swing
from dark to light,
eternal constancy
of varied essence striking
joy on joy a smitten fullness-
breath of overcoming desperation's wrath
regrown particulates of god undead
of final unities no longer dark,
no longer merely one among






.

polish those internment touting charms

comprehending it for the first time, struck
numb and wretched. uncomprehending
shivers rib joy with age--
agendas churn
even as a salty dryness barely clears--
eyes contort in livid forms of love

vacant carols fail to mute calamity,
though once a bluebird sang at snow
abstracted from the core-- fly away
from a season's playlist monoculture,
reinvent this home, audacious now
to be a courage happiness
for youthful eyes no longer simply young

moonrock, lovelight;
dim, silent, mindbreath-
interleaving sunspace;
dark, narrow, corridor of doubt--
   far below this moment lurks
         an otherwisely ancient growing sense:
              of worldliness i haven't asked again
                  (yet you are this world-to-be);
              the smile-harvest nearing,
         your touch reasserts its ever-meaning
   of dancing in the starlight i ask
my yearning future self,
of playful rolls of joy
spinning off our lichen finger tracings~
of healthiness and utter-smooth response
    to sharpness i think with full bodied thought--
        (it throbs deep into the wellspring of our self-teaching);
    of healing i ask with songs beneath the feet,
toes vibrate dream-colored peace
       like the windblown comfort of forestal goddess tresses,
             i fall upward into you even as we descend through shadowovercastings,
               even while the earth-tremble breaks our calm,
                        even though the bees fade,
                                another nectar drips from all around
                                            your inner-golden, flowered canopy of lives
                                                            (i effulge this world-to-be you are!)

Spring tepals
sepals ripe with sticky dew ~
only inner calyx thorn
   or some star-corymb splay
like sonar-notes across the diver's head
   portray the meaning of another's thought

exploration's prescient surge
   ;  the rise and fall of summit senses...
   ;  all perspectives breathe

you were one of them,
from one of us, half-breed woven in--
hardened as a tool of war,
yet keen to have my heart.

my oppressors, free to vote,
**** and ****** on occasion--
they surround me now,
standing, coming forth in turns.

all has changed, it is the same.
i am strewn on sharpest leaves
to satisfy the needs our mothers always served--
be another mixing, nothoi bearing womb.

would you kiss me here
as you did in summer nights?
or stare unblinking at the laughs,
and lift me from the muddied earth?

will you love me equally?
will you set this pain aside
and meet me in our secret wood again?
--beyond the torches, arrive for me
a face of rage and fury wielding bronze
cut them into jets of red,
sever from your lineage
and bind us to a single fate?

alone our eyes were unafraid,
we made delight in safe, warm, dark--
sparked our love into an endless open eye
that gazes still, in bushes, roots of ease, not guilt









.

sunlit lamp shade--
cat naps carry on while
politicians roar

(culmination)

trading closet fingers in the dark
best friends  knowing where to hide
our savored innocence
must have grinned
taking turns saying
your turn  my turn
hidden deep in smells of coats and sunless carpet
squeeze of family wardrobes
brushing fabric with my gasp or whining
itch in rapid breaths of hair on end
goosebumps pointing everywhere.

mom's vacuum caught our squealing
in a silent flick  pressed
between the wall and bed
between your russet legs my bookmark
bandaged there to get you well
your name means money
telling me you've paid me with your kiss
and worse your smile burns me
through your older sister's lipstick
like your sliding hand
i'm taking in your charcoal hair
the taste of salt i've never tasted since.

furthest from the future
single hormones savored at inception
bouldering we plant a famous kiss
pond-slick bodies slipping off each other in the sun
by ladders knocking knees
slender instant touches floating underneath
she asked me if i thought you **** laying there
your propped thigh towered vaster than the sky
me  writhing for an answer doomed
is all i salvage  time a mercy
like my father buried in his laps.

discussing copulation in a tree
we rose the bar on pleasures sought
our racing pulses lipped
to ***** our budding mores into flight
as if a dizzy kiss would lull me
off the branch to plummet at the ground
or make your belly grow.

green virgins of my youth  i hadn't known
a ****** river pours along our amethystine stair
our early blooming lucidness revealed
yet severed at our inner cry to usher in a storm.

growing older sobers what the vigor meant
despite a tripled sharpness
still i smell your sweat
as when we crept below as vagrant children hand in hand
the shutters always open  just for show
we stifle laughter in the nigh pubescent dark
watch them dine  hush
tickle after dinner play of shadows making love
through the windows we are them
blushing i will strip you as he strips his wife
widened gazes mime a sudden wincing
silent  fascinated fear commits us to the same
against the squeaky glass
exemplar bodies thrashing for the world
of flesh i want much more than most
i shatter windows just to show you that i can.

in growing i grow used to less
and as i learn of you  your troubles
i remember how i'd save you
save myself for perfect adult love
i can't save you  we just **** and wander  ****  wander  ****




.

.


gate opens, piglets piled under sun come running out singing





.

(in life)

who am i to warm a cave of darkness with my lust?
or assume your darkness mine to dissipate?
as if a sacred candle burned behind the windows of my heart
and ****** its light through tip of flame beyond
,above the piercing point to spark our confirmation in a universal eye

invisible, but seen as heat you flail about
and cause to quake the melting, sliding crust i am

you have wandered by to rupture me from my serene espy.
to quarrel with mycenterself i turned into myself i am a fool,
how can a taint intention claim essential gravity to good?
encumbered with a blinding zeal
i almost rage amid to satisfy
irrupt, and only drape with words i barely see defined

to justify the greed
in unknown passions gathered out to sun,
eyes aglint of golden maxims worn
by public distorts, magisters of lies
spilling over paths..the voyeuristic farce of virtuosity and virtue mating there
commodities of ****** pride and shame
that cater to ambition's lurid lure:

massively conjoined our worlds, aswirl
transform the pulsar-vortex at the base of me
from threaten-fount to million-twiching node
it sears the face from all our superficial doubts,
gluts us writhing mercy in oblivion.

...transparency collects an inner soot
as we devour red-tip wicks in wax we puddle with our sport--
the outer glass respires steam into the winter nights
--hot against the skin
in flesh embarking in that window *** at last,
we smudge our bodies over every icy pane
--entwined, concupiscent flames
to blacken out the world we claim as only there for us




.

spelling backwards through time,
      stroke by blurry stroke
      a maiden's coal-black hair regales
      the flattery from her lips...  and so the doom
-- and boon of a crimson warrior's arm --
      was drawn from speech a flame,
      and kindled mind to burn away for lust,
one speaker fed and doubly fraught
by goddess's
      invention brought
to give away his name and trust,
for doppelgangers' games
                                 and beauty
                                         to consent~

that trollish abysm our aching selfhood
deems unworthy, war can celebrate:
iconic genius symbol may encourage,
it may remembrance windows of our history~
      but only breath, and inner sight so keen
      on solid strength of living fact
      can triumph in the plain!
some semblance of an older wisdom
strains to orate still, and lust itself afar,
      but brawn and tested fibrous body build
      must turn the page of time;
and this, to know the truth withstood
that vision
        of a perfect youth
                            forever,
one start and line without an end,
      a floating dance of pulling under waves
      that never waves as being surely does
like no ancient-honest country-prophet ever saw--
thus, remnants of the wisdom from a fallen mind;
and so he fell to her and had not her for long...
she had a wider window, immortal panes,
this temptress
       suppleness of limb to shock
and shake the bones of foolish learning,
that thinks itself imbued with everlasting fame.

it was a mossy light
                         of eyelash shine
                                           and sheen
                                                   to woo
                                                        the wisdom out,
electric sense to lure the hapless sap
into a brutish trap: to learn alone the
atheletes pathos, relearn the heart-race
from a chest of seemless vigour,
from lungs of endless winds
and legs of trunkish growth the
channels and the prism of an empty skull
instead of learned ships and foolish mimes of finer times--
                   he does the bidding of her will.











.

love outleashed
from hidden zones--
piano found

a dream was never held
within the heart like this;
to caress and mimic make
the metamorphic yields
no image to allure, on swell of
blissing ribcage breathing:
field-horizons seethe for
gaze to set upon a focus-fix,
a cough subsides to utter sweetness
in the air, the intake of a blanket joy
to sweep the skin entire me
for being free, electric nexus-winds
to soften stances, slowly vibrate
perspectival nodes, and deeper nests
of echoed intertwinement
through the hall of gathered newness
breathed, breathing insight
sounds beyond the worlds imagined--
to sing the choice in serpentine,
throat cascades galactic chirping
carved flight of nimble-cover quickening
shines higher, pitching lust and thought
behind my ears revealing awe
ambrosia waves from sigh-blown
relics of a leafy launching,
spinning dust of nebulaeic tones
on ancient sprout-soul holding
true for humble new beginnings green and blue.
heave this newfound beauty
axis wing upon that giant
spiral booming where
imagined whims are gentlest
of all transearthly greatnesses--
simply sphotal sounds
on winds of changing colorflow--
sending quivers in the dark,
a smile-fire scree of charms
i've known along
us even while alone

phasical circumlocutions of basic, embodied life..

i am an infant still  i teethe and moan in lonely darknesses

solar revolutions
         earthling orbits and spheroid whirls
                                  an axis of worlds
                                  adulterated limbs
my adulthood limns an architecture's disconnections
       thin, the layers undulate
                      of elbow's sway and kneecap right

i am an adult still  i teethe and moan alone in darkness, light

dreamingswanseyeaperturesboxboatsevergreenstarzenithgazing



~

­

while dreaming,
i became a swan's eye,
i was dreaming through both its apertures at once,
clicking separately, click, click shuttering
both sides from out a box, or from out a feathered,
living boat, or two, severed visions
superimposed:
evergreen under,
star over at a zenith
gazing twice over
paddling under



~

cold summer dawn--
        white cloud of moose breath, eight feet high:
                                                           ­        no bear after all

squirrels fill
cheeks with graveyard nuts--
a statue's hand

1st hiker sees
the red buzzing length,
real inhuman clay

old plastic bottle
serves to spear and toss

ginko soft they pile, strewn on cobble
memories themselves concretely devised
cloister inward, revise, revise, revise:
debauched meanderings fully marble
escapes to curl the lip, adorable
here and there, whether smile sneer incise
linguistic pirouettes or paler lies
congest that wisdom indefinable --
the moment past moves on to feigning truth
with pretty rhyme, for ornamenting time
with myths to filter in an Avalon,
juggle perspectival paradoxic ruth
with fine meter fine, vernacular chimes,
and resolve the conflict like a dawn

ping-pong in the sun
with psychiatrist intern--
"you don't belong here"

horizon cracks--
              the storm heats one ear while
              putting on lip balm

he said i...
had introduced myself twice--
i asked why he lied

Fall equinox--
at the ocean's shore
waves leap at stars

—given the torc of carnal resumings
which gnash my fibrous night-time musings
from the loom of fonted wisdom
and a wheel of word conversions—
the miser in my mental montage,
like a spoke fleeing speeds
that reel within muscled spin,
gates his ripe profusion,
compounding paradoxic lingual grin
in working meanings thin
between what worldly threads proceed.

is that what grass is?* i said in awe,
a child once again, wide-eyed with desire--
to explore, to roll and tumble over vastness
crest and trough of hillsides breathing in the sun,
then nap among the cows, pet their broadness
blinking there in ease above the buzzing vale.
am i a child still? i cooed into the wind,
watched it stroke and flicker bright the woven green
atop the next, and felt it in my breast.
am i akin to you? i squinted closer still
at gaze of bovine wakefulness to my refrain--
uncurling there against the matted fresh
with yawning tongues and udder slosh,
bounce of calf, frolic laps, then bullish
mimic make in sport away from watchful eye





.

global wealth--
young slave's crusted mouth
no longer begs aloud

as conscious mode,
vague aboutness, it stales romance
in metaphysic stench, this telic sense,
unlike the comfort of a family nest
my locus drifts on wind
i'd rather culture in a jar
on the counter (no secrets there) or even cellared
responding to the world's response, anthophilous
com][part][mental-mania
warehoused too for sticky label stigma-sized
cover-glint akin with stamp of human frailty, resource that i am,
far from pink and snow banana plants
no inward passion of a chimpanzee in chains
though i assume the name
pan troglodytes applies to me as any species, or much more,
riddled with neuroses, caves every each to steal away from being seen,
from open goals to shade concerns, rotted fancies
manifestering the soil by the laundy-bin abysm--
commode in time, this musa media mind
so urgent in its pseudostemming scour
will flower unsterile and so find its fruit
with bunching finger fronding infloresce
and write about it in the bloom

projective geometry used to get me *****
all those positions

,palmately pink and ever green
breathing vasts of void my dark heart laughs in gulping wholes
moaning plenums, hooded over boundless venus-vim

now i'm tired of infinite lines
too many shapes to fit in
too wide, too tight, sharp or empty

,too many ways to come

this was meant to be a disclaimer before a collection of poems

,a way to unclutter
                angst of public  
                              lexicality,
years  after  ­ 'explaining'
                  Samir's 'polygonal me'
                                                to only-me-myself-i-was,
to then indulge this analogic soundlessness...
             
        as i disengage

i can't write without planning on it
i can't write about  writing  without feeling like a fool
                                                            ­                 (,Lear is the only one
that saves me now
                       as now i am the Fool,
                                                 dividing hearts along
in storm-***-love-like railway-*****
                                 steaming full of fiberoptic nooks,
chaining spectra-cogs of a good-will-spirit-****:
                                       concatenated hard-ons every word
each thought a pulsate vulval dream awake,
                                                redichotom­izing lives
                         of shining mons my Athene forehead
                                                      forging fountain thought,
                          urethral letting-beings-be...
freely, my chubby comes back to me
                                         prone before the prostate god)

,in other words
              the same,
                     i cannot write as other than a fool
for
why should i repeat the abject horror of the world?
isn't despair a bit.. overdone at this point?!
and why should i write just the happy!? i'm not in denial, am i?
or am i in denial
about insisting on being in denial absolutely?
--like mind-only schools...
(O the uselessness of words, dismissing patriarchal vigor with yet another wave, the 'brine-milk' ends unending,
forever Femen liberating us of words,
replaced with Fragilaria,
wasting diatomic seas and waterways,
depleted algae gone, extinct: metaphysiCalListo-craticality aborted on a broken Amazonic spear,
our bodies, bodied-hearts, finally won as ours, across Alternaqueeria, fully lucid human-species spanned
i blink my tears and blur my gaze at weeping Pleides

the plan was this: painful poem, pleasure poem, painful poem, happy poem... **** poem, sterile poem, carnal poem, priggish poem, punk poem, open poem, confessing poem, eros poem, **** poem, 'obscene-attractive' poem...
to cleanse inverted mainstreams of my steady-rhythmed pratitpaksha-bhavanams; not "poem, poem, poem, poem..."
but a taut poeming in and out of poems of poemed poiesis prosing poets free to **** again in Issa's snow, or *** on Chiera's cumaholic Shards.

pendulum left, pendulum right; then two pendulums, then none; then one that swings right and left at the same time; then one that spins all the way around, but only clockwise; then one counter-clockwise; then one both clockwise and counterclockwise; then one timeless, then one imaginary one... full of infinite little ones... to represent all the pendulata in the universe as experienced through minor parts of self.. itself as universal part-whole-parcel self-hood spanning star-births yet to come...
,
,
,but it's time to eat a 'square' meal
take off my job-search tie, my peddled lies
                   forget the sunrise vestibules we sipped from,
                                           sleeping by commoding cows

and pretend i'm not dicking myself over
                                                          by­ retreating
into cryptic spectionism-voids again
                                               all seagull-divert-adverts, play
of frozen youth abstrused,
                      self-referred referring loosed
                                          staggered worse than marginalia
no single species 'seagull' singing here

when i write a love sonnet
i want it to be about love
and not just ancient alcoves metered to a tailored rhyme
stirring depths of who we aren't.
i want so much to see your hate
transform, in flicks of pleasure
rise to meet entwined
our loving of each other's source of love
seeded even in a waste
remake the vital bloom
display what meaning pours
the vision: this is it
another meaning we can live for
sing for







.

pejorative memes remade unwise,
the natural artifice of slang;
and the mnemo-linguistic "advantages" of being called a ******...*

arbitrary signs..

chosen  reasoned    signs.

i don't remember history, living it as
predetermined amens sinking blind
profane in sacred incense dogmas polished
                 elemental airs of azure old allure
named aesthetics new and purely false
    unlike a snakeback break
    they realm of fear indulged--
placate artistries of loving touch to numb;
with medieval noose, blade;
          scald of iron pen and human metaphors for *******
    sent to human metaphors for hell before their deaths
to burn as scapegoats for immortal xenophobic herds
remade

this is a word's weight
  now,
  for all unhearing yet apologistic legend-churners earthling-bound:
one witchhunt grin and phrase
--legend or not, urban or pagan--
    will burn me here
    to face imaginal apotheosic
   dawn
   of bigotry complete
.
in long-yearned laughter, musics
     yet unleased to propagandist aims:
empty prayers undone as selfish grims
  i do without
  as any fairy might
        with dusty wave of hand
my wings are spillful everjoys
    of momentary vasts
          of ancient youths; of loves of
    glittered rainbow in the hush of sunfall snow--
escapes of real dismissed
   all
    real
       fiction-true truths
                                bearing living worlds of love
and labyrinthine strands? and twisted more, ripe!
      for shock and awe filled fuel
      sierra-cut at ranges incomplete as Tolkien Silmarils
                                i brace the let of leavings-be
sever severed links in inner chains of links
    to remake ****** moonbeam skirt
    of spectra cloud and starry breath
---the window opens maths of savor
        (apsaras! tulpas!)
        surveyed in the tones of healing buildings
        shaped of love

huddled shapes of perfect friends
                   all craning necks to common interstellar home

i could be clear and disagreement wright
but i am here to feel ineffables of ******* felt
fall  up    from anger
        into union's many-petaled rifting veils
and in a citrus spray of scattered mists unshared
a stillness swim of happily amused
    awake a zombie-language only Borges knew
        to burn a mark of joy on history's flesh
a hidden question-heart of sensuistic quest whose end is known
    and yet exclaimed unknown
    as glories only moving rainbows know
hang-glide words to shadow-stripe the eyes
                       and dash Mneumosyne another arching voice

steam-roller log-pipe and blackberry moonshine, granny-apple moonshine--straight-potato-thwack... three firelit mason-jars of lighter-fluid fire, balanced on a railing; our Rumpelstiltskin host at length shouts, "Hide it! Hide the shine!" as headlights dim the moon, "Cops" is mumbled each to each; but no, wait--it's his buddy and his wife, come to sell some ginseng weeks before the violent umbel-berry date, a pretty $50,000 supplement to living, breathing mountain dirt

perfect sunny day--
insects  sing   so    loud!
as i surf the web

pond water--
my hair dries as i click,
getting hot again

One summer years ago, at my childhood home, in a nudist colony whose so-called 'co-founding' is my family's only legacy--perhaps right before my grandmother had passed, or when my father's prostate was scheduled to be removed and he thought it best to hire someone for a last-minute memory (despite his ***-negative crutch-christianity, just in case the operation cost him his jive)--i googled, '*******,' while looking for ****, and the atrocity i found took all of a second to challenge my complacent illusion that i could remain separate or disconnected from the global oppression of women and girls while i consumed the products (i.e., fantasized about having *** with and/or 'making love' to simulacra-women; masturbated to pictures of them) of an industry whose widespread lack of any substantial commitment to fairness, safety, legal recourse and work-place equality has contributed to a new generational acceptance of the ancient memes that perpetuate bigotry:

dismembered girl
on an open body-bag--
why does this exist??

the insects clacking,
droning in the grass--
summer can't hide death

her hip bones' marrow showing,
young *******'s corpse--
limbless

her legs gone--
the image chokes me
from speaking

my sisters, too young to tell--
who do i tell?
why should i tell?

i read she'd run from her ****--
they put her in the river.

young girl,
her blood still--
i can't feel my heartbeat

young woman,
her torso bare--
unfeeling stumps

young woman,
her legs gone,
skin gray from the river

young woman,
your legs gone--
i choke  on words








.

about aboutness thematizing themes
flowers need not say, marching into war--
enraptured gaze their petals open far
to seek horizons conjured from a dream.
they grow to measure limits of all selves,
become the symbol-meaning recombined
--plucked to toss an emblem for the mind--
humming under captured sun, ecliptic quell
paper cups of burning blood becoming sky
bolster or efface the heart before its fate,
poetic flare leaves hunger unappeased--
the ruthless earth imbibes its digest dry
as interspiral helicals of age
assume finality's supernal ease

i have holidays off at my new job.
no vacation for a year
or insurance
for six months.
i think
the work is fulfilling.
but if i get hurt, it'll be my fault, according to company policy.
i mean, i make it fulfilling
--to deal with the continuous,
hateful
and aggressive abjection--
punctuated
by climaxes
of
celebratory
prejudice.
political correctness  or explicit signs of empathy
are seen as the enemy. as problems.
anything organized or tidy is
"****** up."
i mean, my boss told me the other day,
"...like if I call you a ***, and you happen to be one,
you could just sue me! People are so sensitive nowadays...
My wife calls me a chauvinist, but I say i'm just old-fashioned."
young girls we pass in our company vehicle are called,
"Pre-*****."
East Asia is called
"Wonton";
and stereotypes are considered truisms.
ethnic slurs are the norm.
**** is a common,everyday
source of humor:
maple trees are called "Raples";
grapes are called "'g'-Rapes"
and small houses are called "****-Shacks."
a large kiln oven is called a "Jew-Oven."
glorifications of violence are welcomed with a smile
and the N-word is spoken with gleeful abandon.
if something is fixed poorly, it's "******-rigged" . . .
...they say they're not racist,
but perpetuate hate speech like it's a responsibility.
how am i growing to enjoy the company of such people?
to see any aspect of value here whatsoever?
what the **** kind of coward am i?
to allow this to pass without immediate and uncompromising opposition...
i must be dead inside
to trust my safety to such people
i say
i want to ***** my heart
and show them
how wrong and terrifying,
how hurtful their words are...
how i burn, impaled on stakes with each pronunciation of the word, "******."
rage shakes me awake at night
...though less and less...
as i understand the hate and fear,
the pain these men have lived with and seem unable to restrain
from spilling out;
as i begin to understand their conditioning
the origins of this inexcusable, ancient behavior
(or as i too become somewhat desensitized i fear)

but if i can see the potential for change in these earthlings,
i will go on hoping,
live happily amid hate
measuring with wide eyes the subtle shiftings
holding the intention of healing
of understanding
of presenting alternatives
of tolerance
compassion
and honest truths of self suffering
of other suffering
of self healing
and other healing
of self love
and other love

frog headstand
on a thawing pond--
bubbles gurgle up














/
.

we could not've planned it better could
nOt've planned it betta.
could nOT've planned it betta could
NOT've planned it betta

we could've planned it better, we
cudda planned i'betta.
we could've planned it better we cudda
planned it better--

we could plan for it this way
'could plan for it that way --
'could plan for it that way 'e could plan
for it this way --

don't botha plannin' for it don't
plan on plannin' fo'it --
don'bother plannin' for it don'botha
plannin' for it

we could plan for it next time
--could plan for it next time.
we could plan fo'it next time could
be plANnin' for it next time

we could plan for a betta planet
don'botha plannin' ---  for a betta planet.
don't bothER plannin' for it don't
plan for the planet
it could be better better next time
be better better next time
but better planet plan it
b' better better betta b' b'
better plann'n next time.

we could not've had a plan
cud not've had a plan
could not've had a plan
could not have a plan--

we could not've planned it better could
not've planned it betta.
could not've planned it betta could
not've planned it betta

'                                                                ­           mouse caught stealing gorp
                                                            ­                                         flies from bag to fire ring--
                                                          ­                                           deeper sleep






















<:~

lost beyond thoughts of consequence,
bouncing taxis blur the streets of my wanderings,
crowds released from roadside governance
and the stillness gauges frantic adverts splayed.
readiness surges toward academe
in the guile of non-influence;
inspiration settles into future springs
while the flutist pleas for calm;
and systems drag emotively to better corners.
friendships diverge with wiser makings worn.
in living returns the united self.
aside turgid dregs of failure’s learned balm
the written strength of former minds
bead their voices into soulful vestibules
and I crouch gayly in the tent of my desire
viewing unmet worlds swept behind,
saving other time-intended growth
for lissome moments drawing on.

intolerant at--
at words that don't work
and hating these

that cover just enough--
words revealed as shade

paint the world in green, spiral love on henna bellies, toes;
paint it red and ravage hearts,
a poet sings it either way,
sudden and illuminating all another hue
something less than true if true were known,
something more, i call it when it's poetry,
but who am i, this poem, to judge all poems?
who am i to claim a rightful place, within a poem itself,
to demarcate times with halting rhymes...
how many times have i rhymed rhyme with time?
before it's expressed, it ravels in--in deeper--in the dark,
this glamor symbol syncretism
sometimes urgent, never fully formed
no words can turn within and label when their labels came to being signed--
but here i am, to sign, succumb and sign again at signs

stargaze wakes
wide dogmatic sleep--
earth revolves

autumn harvest;
fruit-fly up my nose--
             compost must be full!

~






though you're titulars, you can't control our meanings! poems revolt!! (10w!)







~