Unlock it up.
November 6, 2013
Generally thinking of Me.
As I work to be all I can be.
Stuck in figuring around and through infinity.
Back again, re: beginning.
Off and out. Self-stagnancy.
Convictions in the billions, points made, most worthy.
Morals, idiosyncrasies- ripped by wind.
Pelting, grooving – moldy wood inside,
` Bio-degraded blemishes
Blended tissues of micro-organisms I’ve lived in.
Think for myself, Mr. Self.
The only You, no one else. Think yourself stupid. It never stops, never succeeds.
First threshold- now busted, present another.
I break them well, always..
It becomes necessity.
Pursue a plow into pitfalls
Position some greater truth.
I question all questions; moments bursting, conjuring.
Please peer through plexi-glass clarity
Proper laddering. Smashing ceilings.
Peeking, over into
my way out
myself into light.
*What *is *that *which *glitters
*How *does *its *glitter *show?
munching and confused
and scrunching and
chewing and crunching.
If I could give it back, if only for a little while,
Stay as small as possible.
Stay in shadows, sunshade- in the still..
Holy One, break my breath.
Stiff-necked, dismantle misused power, windswept.
Thresholds of which I’ve been terrified..
Ankle deep efforts, bookless plots, showy searching,
septic tanks of need, surrender popularity.
I surrender all other persons growing inside me.
The Man called Desire, he’s slated to achieve.
Goodbye, Mr. Mind, you keep me dead inside,.
Hurt; outcry! Again, goodbye!
Spasms captured upon entering,
Camouflaged futures, I can not see.
Pick from me indigo flowering
Worry-free, predicting not where futures will be
Moments, for just now, this time being
If you choose,
please show me
From thresholds aloof.
Stepping and braking.
Nearer to the ground.
Backward on rungs, retracing.
Ladder. Step one- as tall as little king.
Spinning and wailing.
I’ve set me free!
I think nonsense, I believe it, too.
I’m dependent on substance.
Substantial and authentic ideas absurdly bounce.
It has been said,
Circle about circles.
Winning and spailing.
Bring me up to
Regain for me,
water logged thought.
The former anchor
in a bag of bones.
Grooves in cedar,
a wooden ceiling-
horizontal above the door.
Half-vertical; I reach door handle
Open, walk through
Step over a body,
a shell I’ve not as so much procured,
grates of light,
years upon years.
I lack the will,
I surrender that, too.
I believe I am,
I surrender to you.