a hurt shadow
runs parallel
to my dream.

it is loaded:
charged with
fatigue; its
artistry is
hungry.

i feel it,
bottomless,
equal to
my ascension.
it does not fall
from me but is,
is always
falling.

refusing fusion
reckless and aloof -
fearing most, my
gentleness.
we keep our
distance; we are
inseparable.

self expression,
press of power dispersed,
weakened breath root
torn between levitation
and grounding. opulent extremes
set tense past tension
and spinning.

in the distance, names are issued
like promisses for comfort.
stories retold about hours
and creation, brushing low over
the forehead of a crowd,
rapt in the florescence
of a mob's stollen voice,
evidenced in collective
furrowed brow.



thought's heart holds open
the curtain between dreamt
conscious and sub and un's reality
in continuum, strung loose
yet precise.
a hammock of sky
swinging stars that hold
within their flames,
the snuff that can
extinguish them;
the lungs dormant plurisy
breathes deep-easy,
for now.

where here, all heart
without thought uplifted
and shifting above thought
without heart:
1+1= ... ... ...
you tell me and
i'll agree and
remove altogether
the numb burrs of
intellect worshipping
itself.

holding steady as
a dragonfly
rapping my cracking
fluent body through
communication's
obstacles; i lose
the place
to land
but trust
my success
and how that's defined:
oblivious to X set in
triplicate on The Map.

clarified as the fire
fly on flaming wings
moving through dry grass
and other fragile things,
successfully consuming
... nothing.