mm.

i am mourning……..what is.

and postscript.

patterned rages of the ages make for super page-turners.

i’m done!

into caverns of mindless sightless silence i flee.
a bowl of apples tucked beneath my arm
i carry with me down the slippery steps
with nothing in my soul but
unread absence.

persistence of fleeting rockbeats, flight
into heat, soft-bedded the tiles
of miles i walk with my soiled
white feet,

and i hear and
i feel and
i see what is real.

and padded chambers of literal wordings
beheld with an absence of visceral
churnings

provides the contender with semblances,
purrings, with stirrings

of what can only be called,
be labeled, (befalls),
relief.

see silence, and be saved.

of morning’s faded subtlety

oh how he hated
the stark blood poison
that raided the veins,
blue,
of his hands

elation turns upon itself
and is
degradation
of self and soul.

Words and words are words – yesnoagainstforwith!

A. What?
a. language, meaning, thought, culture, being, seeing, seeming, contradicting
a. me. my mind. my interior externalized for something, someone, somewhere other than….itself (= me?).

B. Why?
b. because i don’t want to keep it to myself – all this writing that is The perfect Bad Habit – ! (?). that is: if i could stop, i would.

C. How?
c. freely, openly, unrestrainedly, nonsensically, logically, fully, emptily, formly, formlessly — adaptively.

D. Who?
d. oh, well,….ME, i guess. and all (all, all, and all the alls) that entails.
d. everyone else. characters made.

that is…..
here….
you will find….

writing about writing
writing about being
writing about thinking
and
writing about seeing

End.