I get her, she writes me,
so eloquently,
”the nub of me; gist, manifested poetic”

one of the many poets I have never met,
one of the many poets, by whom,
I have been suchly, justly, richly and correctly
accused

this mesmerizing judgement,
her-over-easy, mini-essay so succinctly
assaying an accidental ability mine

explodes
a happy passageway to my brain,
a new aperture, the neurons firing at will,
the tormented inquisitor’s unasked question,
how did this happen to me?

rocking the Sunday morn cradle’s calm,
ok, ok, write me, write me,
demands my no longer free will,
utilize the free wi-fi of we fidelty

the bay, surgically barely treading water,
its surface of multitude of small waves
but now an entire ****** expression bidding welcome

the breezeways genteel,
smilingly
invites and push us into its
directionless & tideless soothful embrace,
to the shoreline we goeth,
to watch the occasional crossing vessel intruder,
woking the waters gentle

its white path residual wake foam-formed,
then almost instantaneously absorbed, bubbly bursting,
a history of a million moments awakened,
then, instantly returned to restful sleep,
akin to a newborn’s gurgling happy dreaming,
wiped clean away off to
Peter Pan’s it-never-happened-land

this carnival trick sideline of deep tissue knowingness,
sensing the essence of the who and the whom within,
with no data to go on other than their poetic collection,
the hidden meanings of the spaces and places between
the gene sequencing of their wondrous word-fullness
DNA poetic children, freely given,
and well taken
by me

I cannot explain it well enough, but then
a strayer thought breakaway,
a prehensile comprehension insertion
proffers itself as an explanation
intruded,
and here,
extruded

the perfect world exterior before me observable
thrusts itself through picture windows onto my demeanor,
a ****** addiction of mine, my soul enslaved,
cannot bear to be taken away from

this vista,

which begs me,
bring all those you know!
here, to share, this precious precise nook
where eye insightful incisions elicit poems-by-command

but I cannot, bring you here,

so I see~imagine it better through
your eyes, then
your
gist
is in my stubbed pencil nub, it is
your
poem’s destiny manifesting,
penciled through my scruff edged fingertips,
which-when-then transcribed to paper, to history,
‘tis all you
who writes,
not I

for now
you
are the solitary vessel waterborne,
you,
you
are the captain and I

but a
Samson-nite, burdened, baggaged and blinded stowaway,
hopeless, yet still see-worthy,
with your guiding eyes,  
keeping me to keep
your copyright righted,
onto its course true


7-14-19 9:43am
in shelter, on the isle

People this year really ******* surprised me
..my Mom, my "friends", and aquaintances
but throughout this whole year...to think not one person that truly loved me...accepted me
and this year has been extremely hard because...i felt really lonely
that no one got me, that I had no place, and i chased people who were pushing me away
i felt like a strayer, like mud left behind
this year I've really been able to see the hate of the world
when i've been nothing but kind, when i went out of my way to be accepting
but i could sit here and rant
or I could say It is finished
even if it's not 2015 yet...the past is done
no going back...
and i don't regret anything
but how i treated myself
and allowed myself to act...

Your tears, your fears, and the face smiling with smears.
Craving for delighting gears?
Different degrees of layers.
And the inner. Blares.
Longing to keep everything nears.
Claiming, declaring jeers.
To show Whom it calls peers,
Gulping and tasting beers.
For both its musty, tasty spheres.
Without any inquiry, clear.
Avoiding any steer.
Not seeing one’s own deeds soaked in sneer.
Having blemishes severe,
Exploiting all sincere.
Distorting all revere,
Full of inside Outside veneer,
Cleverly picking the souvenir.
At the top of ****** Cavalier.
Smiling compulsively hiding guilts rear.
Considering itself a volunteer.
Overlooking its own enslaved gears.
Just interfere doesn’t hear its own inner Moaning Blare,
As in damp, muddy layer.
Some random movements with no care.
All nature painting it’s snare,
Stinking wholly with bubbly glare.
Like numerous shapes having stare.
Carving hollow appear.
Same as clouds, smoke sands, and sprayers,
Making a world of fancy seer.
Seeing them staring making pairs,
Giving meanings and imposing dreams like a Strayer.
Remai ignorant in mental volunteer.
Flowing, blowing, soaking their
In and through near everywhere.
Unless until he gets clear.
Conscious thought has form in smear
Are one pair and Just same payer,
Which may dismay its own Blare.
Even conscious or super sayer,
Has the same. Abode here.
Mighty thinking, conscious mere.
Can reside in around,
Relative everywhere.
Like grey background,As greyer,
Is impossible ,Not even rare.
Is capable of,
Inhere Only in monistic Shunya stare.