Of a reminder to begin knowing
that well beyond the moment
that I began to fade.

Of hyacinths and perfectly manicured lawns
Long winding trails into lush mountains

Into a hollowness, as empty as dawn
The reason this becoming
has no other importance
other than the urgency
of which it is now

Had there been a looking glass
I would see in a haze, with clear focus
then immediately darkening
a vast intersection of starlight

A mirror of my own reflection, shaped like a needlepoint
then hastily. There, either a thought-idea-daydream
weeping. running to stand effortlessly still.
seeing no more than what there is exactly to see.

The actual dream folded and unfolded. Upside down and inverted
Seeing no more then yet again:
There and gone.
No more than hyacinths, lizards, driveways and stars.

I am in that moment.
And yes, I am well.

Posted by Bulletproofvest at 07:59 PM | Permalink
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Do not go in there, we
may have an opportunity
to get two for the
price of one

Separate but equal:
unimaginative. Blow. By. Blow.

May this day be
the day when my vision
blows my mind.

Come wear my flowers.
Come see the death of my kings.
A great man, but a selfish one, long long long gone.
This day be
the articulation; a fashionable wish
that will be my pride.

Yipee.

Posted by Bulletproofvest at 09:29 PM | Permalink
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Thank you.
Thank you.

A dream of apatheia.
Ghastly apatheia.

Understanding: realize
Understanding: hurting no one. Giving energy.

Everything: Education is the silver bullet.
Everything: Education is the silver bullet.

Posted by Bulletproofvest at 11:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
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Don't you know that when I leave
My eyes become a million pieces of
glass?

There are six windows
and three brown splotches, must be
from the last time
I rode it like a
cannonball.
Tumbling.

The line on the left side
reverse artwork on a nude
metallic canvas.
It's a
reputation preceding.

There is a force on your elbows
when you follow the invisible line
it climbs into your eyes
like an
earthquake arching.

Posted by Bulletproofvest at 04:31 AM | Permalink
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I walk towards the crowd.
Criss-crossing cement, I plant my feet on words.
Strangers unknotting themselves. I slip mercilessly.

The lady litters with whispers: why are you wearing those shorts?
I answer: because I like them.
She flies away. Her mouth speaking backwards. Her eyelashes a deep blue.

Middle-aged man: I am plagued.
The lines on his face like prison grills.
Walk on -- I said -- deliver yourself.
No point in making it to the next chapter, his reply.

I know this like a chance I should have taken.
Like a vaccine.

Samosas. Across the street from this marbled, leathered lobby.
Trees cast shadows like hunkering leopards.
The blinking signs. Hardly remembered.
Avoiding the spit: I trip on the curb.

The creek follows the line of the road.
A guilty stench. A wordless murky stream.
Dangerous and gentle. The city hall looms above.

A monologue from a security guard: everyday I buy your softdrinks and your bread.
How come you never give me a discount?
Another: how many times do you need to tell me that?
If there was a fruit stand, I would descend rapidly.

There are incantations with text the size of shrimp
etched on the walls of the synogogue.
I make it to my doorstep. An uncomplicated silence ensues.
Along with: cigarette smoke and the chatter of children.

Posted by Bulletproofvest at 03:54 AM | Permalink
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