8.6.17

FLUENT COMMAND

for Matthew Damon



Cursive rules, its loops and curlicues reveal a lot about us.
Perhaps its best we lay it to rest, buried along with the worst
of our secrets and plotting and lies; a nice clean typography
will better keep us in line. It's fine, don't worry, the quatrains
will be running on time, everything kept under strict control
while the sinuous, inveterate signature of our blossoming
gets rectified by autocorrection with machine-like precision.
Farewell to our sensuous rhythm. Welcome the fascist rule.

9.2.17

PAPER WHAT IS IT



the dead skin sloughed off Institutions
something to record our cryptic Solutions
promissory notes passed on but never Paid
from trees that we made into Lampshades
for the illumination of our deepest Fears
and desires really the same thing Fueling
our fires and schooling the liars we Hire
to print more currency from the flayed Hides
of our own strip-mined lungs so we can See
ourselves in this written mirror Instead
of breathing in the air paper is an Excuse
we use to justify the ending of our Lives
and to marginalize our state of being Alive





















3.2.17

WHEN I'M NOT THERE





It has always been like this

We have never been present

Because the moment carried 

This river of spacetime to reflect

Split-mind objectification of the

Subjective so now we may all rest

Assured the foreshadowing of our

Awakening must occur twice during

All of our existences here and there

In between both sides of paradise













1.2.17

THE PANOPTIC AWAKENING
OF PROFESSOR OLIVER DANIEL

Falling much slower than should be normal.
Drifting into a fog and lowered into silence.
Given to the wind swept by to pick you up.
Whispers and dry exhalations of fallen leaves.

The world becomes a carousel of clouds
spinning below slipping frictionless quick
towards the haze you find yourself stretched
out plummeting head down swan diving through
the outer layers of a swift approaching world of mist.

Rushing upward until the target pocket of white light
has been struck a mattress upon which to sit back relax
and recline emerging from the amniotic veil we step into
darkness our only guidance the bright light radiating from
our bodies catapulted as from a trampoline into ricocheting
off eternity our colony of cells thriving every day of our lives.