bring it on, bein’, begin celebration.

It’s in recovery, she said, and I didn’t question her.
A mission for a vision is stifling me.
Unabashed tapping out a tune just to clash,
It’s in the tiniest of flowers and a picture of a moon,
not your own moon, mind you
do you mind nevermind your mind?
And to your ears it would grind.
How to unknow, desensitizing.
The ribbon of your voice is prettier than I can bear.
I called out for action but the camera never moved.
I stood looking ’round bewilderedandconfused.
Silly achy-pants
the dog, underneath the mistletoe.
how far did it go?

If we’re nothing more than fragments of a whole, then why do I have so many creases?

Bright light crafts its way into day, unforgivingly cheerful.
Like lovers past I lay in bed,
waiting for rebirth, darkening
a path through furtive memories.
Waiting, for elusive thunder
crackles my neurons afire.
Oh, won’t you stay?
We’ll push the night into day,
grasp at sweaty sheets,
inhaling skin, breathing fire in.
The innumerable consequences of love include the following:
a loss of wll, the absence of constant performing,
an identity crafted through
a turn inward.

Lapping at a bowl of guava juice,
the white flash of blacklight smiles,
the bare feet running loose.

A long and curious contemplation,
leads me to the following conclusion:
eliminate anticipation.

time, sharp like a pin stuck in the palm
of my hand; fists clenched into balls and gritted teeth.
unbelievable, the flimsy notions of knowing and being
scratched into consciousness; the ego persists to exist
and i am left standing in the midst of the seemlessness of this:
time, forking a river of blue ink on white sheets.

songwind trails behind,
thoughts unfurl and unwind.
soft gestures speak swiftly,
the heart lurches upwards
and out.