Mindless galaxies triumph by Locking mechanisms, each in stride Leaving by the wayside, knock The pocks of craters, grateful stock. Sinking to my knees and then Putting bygones at the end Crass, brass, renegades pass, Not really listening to the grass. Meet me here, again and now, Meet me there within the bow.
I’ve been ruminating lately on the concept of ‘detachment.’ In the past, I’ve taken issue with this esoteric mandate that one needs to detach oneself from oneself and all worldly things and loved ones, as this is the only way to be enlightened. Or to see God. Or to ‘ascend’ or ‘transcend’ reality. Or the …
Words are always following me. They hang above, trailing me wherever I go. Constantly composing, re-forming, re-stating. Once I have a moment of peace or silence, they flood me like the deluge…. An onslaught of compositions, essays, poetry, and random statements. I am used to this constant internal narrative. It’s been there for me all …
Breaking bread in utmost haste Singing soldiers, making paste Sought amongst the gravel ruins Partial maladies seek cocoons. Casting nets both wide and vast Reeling in the fishes fast Cranking, beating, Flesh and bone I can’t see past the hues and tone. Fast forward through The muck and dew, Slowing down now, Breathe. Anew.
