The slant-eyed
giant hunter
people of Tsul Kalu
came in peace

To become
the central universe
Cherokee white elders
hereditary priests
teaching peace

Winged rattlesnake
constellation
of time untime

Singing the death song

Sacred spirits
animal, plant, herb and tree

The wheel
what is, will be

(The ancient Chinese were
the greatest astronomers.

Later in the 1400's their
massive treasure fleets
mapped the World

The Yuki, Navajo, Apache,
Yuchis, Ming **, Melungeons,
Shawnee (Oceanye **), Sioux,
Cree Ojibuwa and Moskoke
have Chinese ancestors
some claimed to be Chinese

European explorers told of
elders speaking Chinese
ancient Chinese artefacts
and wrecked junks seen

History as taught might
be but a fairytale)

one winter I almost did not survive
the infinitely consequential moments, all merged
indeed
into one dimensionless experience
where the pain of my entire life (embraced) was
all around me, all at once, and forever
do you know what I mean?
and I could see it all, even behind me and underneath
and I was crushed beneath it and yet,
in that endless vast untime
a winter?
even then
held it upon my palm to look down at
from far far above me
as though it were a tiny diamond
impossibly durable,
sharp,
with all the shining upon all of the surface of the oceans on the earth
and unbearable, I looked down at it,
I held it, unbearable

but it would never fall from me, and it hurt and cheered me to be beneath it
for if God had (known me) long enough
in the untime with no breadth
to lay this curse
the form of grief
down upon my head,
was it not also the most solemn blessing?

       and he is faithful, and the suffering he lays down upon you, he will not allow
to be too much, that you would die while you are alive
one time, but again,
again,
and more after that

that is the winter of indelible clarity
a hard glass memory
behind the curtain, the coldness off the window
freeze against the pane
still I feel it in my hand
heavy (unbearable) and familiar
coming down on me again

what did I do
to turn the eternal gaze
toward my face? I disintegrate in excruciation
but never turn away

Untying my shoes
Is a ritual
Where I bake my cement
And stick my hand in it
Maybe someday
A detective will come
To investigate my death
And find my fingerprints
Trace my blood back
To the bedroom where I sit
Listening to indie music
From my own lungs
Twisted in the sheets
Hanging from the ceiling
Like an athletic
****** angel
And mayhap
If I'm lucky
My body will end up
In some museum
Where lavendar doesn't
Know how to burn
I can read me to sleep
And I'll have witches
In my dreams
They can cast hexes on me
So pedestriannly
I will swing
Like a demon
From your sewing machine
I'll sing at the screening
Like a rogue banshee
When they lay me down
For my eternal sleep
I'll put my fingers up
Just the two
In a farewell salute
Before I'm nailed in
To meet all my new friends
They might eat my eyes
But they're still better than you

This is the first moment that ever was, the crossing metal beams and glass panes,
The blurred reflections of finely polished tabletops
The meticulous tangles of crinkly hair in a variety of unique styles
All murmur to me from a shared experience of eternity
Reminding me that I should
Wake up
All the past is here with me
Unsteady, unwieldy
All the past is waiting for me to open the door and let it be free
And when I do I too will be free
For I am the past even more than the past is me
But I too am the future
As is the past
But I can't let past become future
If I don't WAKE UP
I'll be DEAD soon
Here I am, at WAKE tech*
'Twould be the height of ignorance
Not to see the message
Wake up.
Wake up.
Here I am for the first time in my life
The empty branches never held life, even losing it now
They are not characters of linear narratives
Even the happiness of unions between me and me again
They are born today, none share histories but those they've writ themselves
Wake up.
Remember that time,
So present,
It slipped away
That short synchronous gateway
When I broke through,
When I was nearly awake.
That time is not gone.
Look, look down,
You're wearing a t-shirt from Cup a Joe,
The place where you nearly woke up
Look down, your umbilical cord was cut
And you lived there
On Hillsborough Street,
Just past Cup a Joe
And a beautiful woman right above your head
WORKS there, the mythic place
Where you, where I nearly awoke.
How absurd, to think all would decide to converge there
Independently of each other
It was written
Before all began,
And now begins Time, untime
Now it begins

Remember? Look down, she said
"Be here, Be Here Now"--but remember? HE said Be Here Now
And here I were--
There I was
Impossible, yes, I know
But do you really want to pretend
That it matters
what's
POSSIBLE?

Sleep has been a sluggish pixie and the moon a constant Patheon
Of Twilight Sirens. I am lulled into molasses eyes and am never sane.
Only a  ghost in my sheleton. A malingering cocoon
in the shape of a perpetual Snow White Crane.
I garden the grove of Midnights inner thy
and valiantly persist. I lay siege where I lay down my arms to suffer peace - as merely a mirage of luminous Tchotchkes and stolen kisses from Abyssal Lips.

Under wrong stars, I roam the Halls of UnTime. I go on my way where looming is sprinting into stagnations embrace
with all the vigor of Hermes. Floating in the hall is like surfing a dark gods wave. An undulating fog
of prodigious oblique.  in haste.
I am a Time Machine that writes poetry
and may never finish my Tea.
Earl Grey.

With the Soul of a
Frozen Agog.

Neither freshly downloaded
Nor recently bought.
Old music wafts
Out of the digital sarcophagus
And gently floods
The familiar channels
Of my auditory cortex.

It neither flows on
The unyielding slopes of time
Nor from past to the future.
But on the plains of untime.
Washing against the shores
From myriad mouths
Long after the flood seizes.

A little shriller on the ears
A little baser on the heart
Of old blazers and mothballs
Grainy and sepia

A chunk of frozen time.