Fearful Light

Good morning, light That steady movement Reminding might Provide improvement The lavender, growing Unknowing power Of changes sowing Of growth encumbering

Time bends I Out the yawning mouth The Propator climbs Out of time light bends And bends mine eye Chime outward finds I Split light chime gapes Open the eye In the dirt the Propator and I lie In the dirt we find The propagate Verb Raised book upright Bent time yawns the Book upright Verb propagate chimes Propator agape, forth light Bent time I

-Antiphon 15

-Martin Buber

But we, in the world, whatever unknown Shredded into the Myriad Pieces of us out there Ever changing, adapting Reanimating Hyperreal

A latent invitation In the intuition Of a need to be present I entered And seeing festivities In dedication to the child I entered The crowd parted, evenly Dispersed bilaterally In this channel I entered The child, face idle Stared at me Expecting I entered empty Having nothing to give I stalled expectation in The voided stare Of the child I stalled In the intuition of A need to present Having nothing to give The child looked, the crowd Dissolving into itself Closing me away I exited None speaking Ignoring Festivities Continuing

The sound abrupt, it split me It quit me in that moment where The tragic set itself around glee Supposed master or supposed nature Of life in which it is Most important to be happy The herald cry, bound by Skin traps and sinews wound Around our transcendence, tightly Our constricted vision, myopia At certain times comfort Others, claustrophobia The sounds erupt, about Splitting flowers and clouds In a torsional splay Lain in shrouds, then Lain in clay, again In an orbital sway sundry

-Emil Cioran

-William Blake

Entrain.

Our individual lives Our physicality, animate Immediate and eternal sacrosanctity For this great distance have I striven I shall strive for again, again Missteps and accomplishments Lost in a yawning tremor Propelled by my own will By nothing than this I run In silence, stillness I run In sweat and labor, I run In running, I am still Under an abstract yoke Lost in a yawning tremble

...Just a fontanelle.

Starflying night drives Down 59th, windows down Starbucks gift cards Comic books, scattered yards Homemade birthday cards Tall bike rides in the empty dusk Concrete paths to parking lots Impromptu haircuts Imperial headphone sway Doves listening by wing, by day Inward halls of stands, tall Come and go, en route to show Fries with a friend, and third recall Last asked company, personal though No cell phone at the midnight showing Hair long, coffee strong, fondness growing Moving seats in minds’ recess Hive minds move at slightest caress Afternoon church, our bodies close Mental states matter to the material master There be no lust!  Even by repose Known mental states, over-thought: disaster It fades fades Damned faded. A closed diptych left on a shelf In a back washroom.