#projectivegeometry

Through our son we have come West of Time: A future-past time-space where peace and love have nothing to counteract, rephrase

In this cartesian plane cataracts seep from eye to brain too much terrestrial time folks forget how to see straight

what is straight

So we parent from a future now where oceans flood out of boxes and shores and rainbows burst up from your molten core

these words are rocks no less no more with them build kingdoms of your core

so here, now let us use words to create the day when our children will ask :

Mama what is or was or will be black?

As each era creates new words to see the world through I will not ascribe the identity politics I’ve learned onto you

Because

you melt the rules like lava under new shoes No protection for a rubber sole cuz the truth moves Free your soul from rubber molds touch the source of creation: like the tap flowing on a rubber tree plantation when the rebels come chanting liberation sap and flesh burn alike in asset liquidation back into Black into the source of all creation and you rose at cremation

Tongue tooth clack words form from black And fall into blue ocean room on wind that blows over surface and coaxes up wave that washes over fluid sac holding your brain, and when It speaks new neurons form while placenta bleeds and galaxies within combust Big Bang birth boom this earth has twelve rooms with vowels and consonants i construct your tomb to flesh is also metamorphosis

In Triangular swatches of cloth see body as pyramid, cross In Lavender, blue Flowing river and stardust too we wash over capture desire conquest to arrive at a ground place so deep in space time that scriptures erase and we are back to one point where we are not going anywhere doing anything we just be

This place Were from Is One point , pre-entropy Where we don’t speak we just be

So shut the faux up And remember to breathe

You are not a balloon You are air inside and around it so full or deflate, your victory surrounds us you are not a shell you are yolk of desire break the yolks of desire to find the shape your consciousness takes its not round you are in and out up and down full and flat you are full spectrum sound

and you are not your skin you are energy within and you are not your skin you are energy speaking from within

you are not your skin Yet you are living in it as I have in mine and we all do until we flatline: horizon West of Time A place you cannot arrive because you are already there eventually

the future is a 24 hour clock with no hands just three figure eights turned sideways, as chains: links and jail breaks.

In projective space, or the field of geometry that describes and creates the vanishing point and perspective common to paintings of landscapes one point is many lines and the gaze between us a series of straights lines from iris to iris is an umbilical chord to birth in another life this dimension - our reality - is merely reflection so while the cylinder of the world has become planar by virtue of our view earth herself remains flat

Rock

until the mind arrives

And we learn to talk