Saturday, February 12, 2011


How could a single, breathtaking blueprint
of a swirling river bring us back
to yesterday's acquired certainty?
and--- I realize I have esteemed you higher--
on a pixel-landscape in a flickering culture!
More integrated, and more afraid.
So may I stomp and stomp
and stay afraid?
And He- He who is buzzing in the empty
space between bodies quietly held my hand, and spoke:
"You, my quiet daughter, have a single harmony, split in two."

His splashing eyes are garlands of an altered consciousness!
Thank a most grateful God!I am biased, but
I might still hold innocence.

An innocence named Anthracite.

An ever-moving, floating thought transformed:
purple, twisting and turning above my praying hands.
What I have to wonder about is immaterial,
given the fact that your eyes are a bluish grey,
and not at all close to what I had expected.
Of course I have acquired different realms,
but my heart is in none of them.


And the moss on the temple doors show
a silent awakening.
How I felt compassion for his damned son,
caught in the frequency of a transmission receiver.
Along the shores of the Amazon River and
running with him through
fields. There is no
coincidence that grain blows in
the same direction of our dreams.
No, not at all.
Replaced your feathered pillows,
because your body decays
in front of my clouded eyes.Yet,
I look to the sun and realize,
Your eyes are my eyes!
Where are you hiding in the wooden house?I worry for you,
and your thoughts.
But more, I worry for my self-satisfaction.