some times I want, too

ok, sex for free –

time to discover, time to be...

when you contemplate the ages, from whence you came,

when you stop to inflate the sages’ teachings,

into bubbles of surreality floating up to the surface

(of life)

please don’t consider me an imposter,

in the color-flow of your dream –

please allow me a voice, if only to say what I mean.

I wouldn’t change your dream,

I wouldn’t alter your course –

I would only join you there,

and help you survive the worst...

“Persona” is a word foreign to my soul.

Just because I am not saying here, things I’d “really” say,

doesn’t mean I’m inventing a point-of-view

from which some one would actually say them...

Instead, I’m contemplating the word-time...

out loud, so – to speak

to seek things that were always here, things we often feared,

to uncover the realms beneath which we struggled, hoping to get there...

to discover the spells and how to spell the lines that would untangle

the sublime relation between us two...

Us? We are a few...

We grew, we maybe flew, we went through symbolic walls,

symbolic barriers in our life

to reach this now,

this oft-related field of poetry inflated

beyond dreams, into the waking life schemes

poetry related in public

ever in private? I don’t know...

I am not alone, even now – you are here in a way...

though I know you not, you’re what my desire “got”

when it looked through the lists,

the pages of books of narrative craft,

science fiction ladies,

mythical men,

epical children

animals from when?

It all comes together, in a meaning-like meaning swirl

the ages we uncovered, when we were born into the world

a world on fire, a world for higher,

the world as in a dream you once had,

people everywhere, doing their thing

color-flows and perceptual nets

catching every single ring

must there be a god?

or must the question bore you by now...

when before it was a question of life and death,

and later it will be again, as you breathe a final puff of air

fair? I hope...

though the world has been known to play for keeps,

finders keepers, losers seeking the next round of game

rounds the same, eerily, from one place to next

this poem unique? Or it merely an example of a type of text?

stories like mine multiplied throughout earth’s sphere...

but this story is thine...

I have reached you,

and until you turn it around,

I will have to believe that today, it was only this poem I found