Saturday, May 16, 2009

Warm Compost

I'll cusp this feeling like leaves and aged compost

in the bowl of my hands and swish, I'm away in a dream...

what is that vague contentment on the fringe of my existence?

it tingles

an ah or an mmmmm

things disappear

How did it work? The trumpets brought down the walls...

How? The vibration agitated the mortar

and like those electric football fields

the zzzzz finally slipped the discs?

this quiet is the only place I can connect my toes to my knees

There's that zzzz zzzz vibe, where am I in here

roughly in some area behind my eyes, but wait...

try as I will to be in my abdomen

the addiction to stay latched to the lens...

such determination!

Have you watched the skinny bending little blade of grass

push through the asphalt? That little fuck.

How did he do it?

so it isn't me but my awareness I move around inside the tissue,

like those Jules Verne explorers in some tricked out mini sub

but not through the lens of my eyes...then what?

so it wasn't me all that time playing with the telescope or the microscope, but who? You?

and the sensation is a feeling...a buzz

Luuuuuke, I'm your faaaaaather

nggggg mmmmm ahhhhh

now a song

How much is that doggy in the window

just be. There's nothing else to do.

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