want it to show in a poem

My aim is to encapsulate words with the effect of bringing the consciousnesses of those who read the words into similar states. Like writing as a portal, as a finger pointing, as a signpost. I have this hunch that all spirits Are hungering after this union , as like a secret underground mission of sorts most of the time, so leaving little baits out along the trail of tears.


Have you ever noticed its blue hue and the way the winds move and touch the surface,

It’s never the same

The flow of life is written on the sky for all to hear and see

Yesterday I laid by the ocean for hours, sometimes opening the slit of my lips allowing the chords in my throat to quiver and to hear a sound shiver out I wanted the sound to match the way the waves moved I was a lone human,

Yet indescribably I wanted to be all-one, I wanted to be joining the waves, I wanted no difference between us two, I wanted no difference between me and the sea

Is this oblivion,

It is union

What is it to be human, what are my true responsibilities

Each part seemingly taking a different slice of me

Can I be whole can I be wholly all-one

My tendency, as this part in the whole, is to watch, I want to witness as the world moves by in its ecstasy, in the pain and beauty

This morning I rolled around aching with the tears that wouldn’t come. I breathed for a bit and tried to orient my perspective with a vibe that’s true true true

Now I sip tea from the orient, characterized by asian symbols I couldn’t read if my life depended on it

The ocean still moving the way it never stops the girl who came to me in a dream, was it a dream, consciousness, which part of you is real real real she said to me, both in her actions and her voice, my dear, ecstatic, you know those moments when it’s like you’re having sex but you’re really doing something like look at the wind move in the trees, sex is the word we use for the union between humans, or  organisms,

But what about the sex I have when I feel a sunset, the way I can feel smelling a flower, when all time stops, it all ceases to matter ‘sides us two. To live in states such as these, wouldn’t it be fine,


Yet the girl was jumping in and out of line, she was unruly, unprincipled, unshocked, unguaranteed and she looked at me, the way she looked at me, we were devouring each other. There was nothing left. There was the brutal honesty in it that I can only write about, but I want to show you in a poem. I want to write the meaning into the words so you feel it glowing.


So you can feel your own majestic self move as the fibers in your brain latch onto the state, sneaking into the consciousness unawares. The power of speech is a transportation portal. I’ve visited plenty in my day. What is the power of writing lest it change us. Why else do we read. For more sleep? Sleep is fine,


Yet why not read to be rocked. I eat your words because in them, in the way I am moved by your eyes, I remember what cannot be said and simultaneously forget everything that can be forgotten. For a time, for times. What is it to be human. Where am I anyway and I how did I get here?


I want to prod the basics, keep in the body, write what I see



Receptive vessels

The base state of people

And where they meet

Where do we meet

As stan asks, where do I appear


And the lines are telling on my face, but I can change them at moment’s notice the way each organism goes its own way the way a tree grows up in the shade or in strong winds it is bent and curvature’s just right to fit the lens, yet moving from that space, with feet and with legs and hips that asway, I can move in any old way . I can choose and form and dance and glide, the lines are telling on my face, but I can then slide


The way a poem reaches out and meets part of you you forgot about or weren’t remembering just at that time The way this is why we seek out art, to show us something sublime, or like art can be a portal

a portal to where we want to go, where we want to live. Base state base state, living on the ground, humans, yet within this and amid it there are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the sun,

a thousand ways to run our course to run

A thousand ways to perfect and hone what’s at home here, we’re the ones who decided Truly truly, I aint playing that game of the mass culture truly truly let’s let some ingenuity into the fore. There’s no time for sitting around keeping things the same, with all of this creativity flowing through my brain It’s time to fail and time to try again. Time to learn and time to be a kid. What’s in all of the livin’ if it’s not a time and time and time again. Time and time and time again. Time and time and time again.

I want my poems to be mind-states, mind states to wrap your head into, showing us, a hand reaching out prodding what we could be, what we have been. Portals for remembrance, portals to what we haven’t seen. The brain will take symbols and interpret them without you knowing what happened, I want my words to work themselves into your system without your brain’s permission. Though there’s something deep inside that’s asking to be listening. Asking to be listening, ask and you shall listen, avenge and you shall hear. What is it most, dear, most you want to hear. Portals to hop into, to remind you what you could do. Humans as inventors, engineers of days we haven’t seen yet. Same old same old sometimes has its benefit, yet there’s a time and a place we haven’t been to yet, and it’s there I’m headin, there I’ve been, there I come from and there I yearn for. Days I haven’t seen yet, spaces I haven’t gleaned yet, things I only imagine, imagine in my genes, it’s an imagene that exists within my head and things are never the same we just sometimes wear the old glasses in the same way.

You know how your cells change every 5 years, thoroughly completely, you’re a new being than you were back then. And the brain has the capacity to carve out new rootless into dark nooks and crannies that we haven’t been to yet. That we haven’t been to yet. Talking about spaces we haven’t seen yet.

Prod the unknown, court the undecided, uncertain, dark womb of creation that you’re drawn to. Court the cunt, penetrate and sow a million seeds, maybe one will glisten in the light of day and grow to have a day of its own. Maybe one will glisten in the light of day, you never know. Sow sow sow sow sow. We never know what will take hold, so plant while the day is young. We cannot know what we haven’t seen, but we can dream, we can dream.

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