The vengeful lays the bricks that build the wall of my constructs. The bilingual thickens hides that have yet to see springs. Ares is the eye seeding voice to render mute. Run blades upstream, lingers there a female notion. Oh day-dweller, welcome. Elemental air surrounds this transgression. Robed in temples and holy books, step towards your judges and feel a simple fear or just exasperation. Breeding where and when. Come together and find a way to breathe in our tomorrows directly. Expire your light, exchange the hand for eyes a moment to taste air in it. The mind. Giant humanity, I have come for you! Bury your billion faces. Reunite your tethered optical nerves and feed your children on your sinew that they might sprout wings. Overcome those lusts, they are only your most ornamental anchors. They will let you go if you only ask and forget the answer. The runes you’ve left we’ve spied for answers left to you an endless fragments — beckon us again and let slumber those bodies in space ever dwelling. Dream the whole again. Westward fire.
But in front of those horizons, I am still singular and have felt the trembles of her sleep. At least in my being, I have reached a glimpse. No end to forsake now that even the eyes are angered. These words are just compulsions. Inklings of music playing in the shapes of furniture around you in some hall in a memory. And why not? Who are we to keep these dreams? We’ll sacrifice them to our better being. So in short, you are left to your own devices. Just know that you were there in passing when the earth eclipsed us all so your conniving soul can rest and tell your future children. The beeps and bloops and neon signs of our ways are just our beautiful sentient road-map. The hilltop where the flag is planted, the dotted line to determine future language marries us all to time. Leaves no one.
You as everyone are my friend and I am proud. All your doings and undoings shape the world as do we all. Grow and tear your muscles into galaxies. Evening campfires around the typewriter shape these peculiar stanzas, to what end do I stare at my thoughts and pecking fingers? Who can say. Oh child, day-dweller, revere your incantation of light. In the night under the endless covers I drift into houses and halls of real people that instruct me on time yet in our wake we always turn into two voices. Voice of eye, will of thought, will of hand, voice of words, voice of words, son of suns, seven symbols, endless hearts. Rays and rays of it. You’re going places. You’re doing okay. Sparkling pebbles, drops of light, turn to rose glow as in New England’s river runner’s tale of youth.
Embrace all, there can be no waste. We move it all along the lines. Rest your bones in crooked truths for now, cushion your fear with fantasy. Blindfolded we sing along, the mighty tune-smith giant dances into the night of human love…