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
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,
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