Start the river of time wide open 
   flowing in immemorial grandeur
Turn to the rivulets of blood 
  compressed within mankind's veins
Fueling its central transformers 
 into galvanic turbines set to receive
Arterial emanations streaming
  in sequence from quasars to hearts

A complicated recycling undergoes 
   a perpetual Möbius circuit
Tracing exchanged laws of thermo
  dynamics from nascent dissolution
Toward delivery of oblivion spun 
 from infinitesimality to dominance
Through the spectrum of the most 
  extreme to the imperceptible

Challenges of the vital material 
   connecting the nexus of the whole
To the consummate webbing 
  of the labyrinth of entanglement
Coursing between wavering oscillation 
 and the staggering flux of
The alternating polarities 
  inherent to the voltaic firmament

Simultaneously completing 
   the integrated culmination 
Our division of the proliferating 
  fractional multitude of creation 
Constituting the establishment 
 of a regenerative foundation 
The fatal breath siring vitality's annihilation 
  laid down to rest above and below

The stationary orbit of constant motion 
   that surrounds the external
Materialization of petrified incandescence
   in a transubstantiation
Of cardinal plasma siphoned 
 from zero into the singular totality
Sustaining the deliverance 
  of our manifestation of ordered chaos



This restriction of perceiving ourselves as bipedal
 beings with a split brain and only two hands 
  hominids loping along to score our next medal
   thinking we're winning and conquering lands 

What are we overthrowing if not our own sense
 of real objectivity and knowing the difference
  between seeing and believing that anything's real
   like the pores in our skin or the craters of the moon

How may we secure our newfound perspective
 if we don't keep in mind that later or soon 
  enough our misguided sense of directive 
   could use further adjustment to better attune

Ourselves to the notion we're part of a picture
 much greater than anything we might imagine 
  if we just let go of our own patented scripture
   the authenticity remaining we could examine 

How strange to think that whatever is evident
 may require faith to believe in due to its size
  that our individual selves here as a resident 
   remain a fraction of a colony of cells in our eyes



One single leaf
concealed among
the spread pages
of its family
somehow avoids
each of our
placid stares
as we stroll by
to our oblique
(the question
remains unasked
to this day by
a populace too
busy to know
what's real)
toward the secret 
(there is no leaf) 
lost again when
the last finger
nail latch gets lifted
from the lock on
our root cellar
door down here
in this dark quiet
musty realm
the light of day
never once licks
but instead must
visit in the form
of a hidden egg
cracked into song



  dark corrosion     malformed memories
  echoes   haunt    the middle
  night  rafters    chilled
  wind's   bite   we know 
 filled  with   fright  
will stops   working   

we proceed  
 possessed  lying 
in bed on our backs
frozen stiff    slow and creeping   
you hear rustling   eaves   the others 

   undress in   disappearing   moonlight
 moving across   floor tiles    rooms being
swallowed  rising  tide    swirling ink  
 when you think we're  most vulnerable
    window slides  up    inviting   dark of outer

space inside    gates   unlock    pitch  black
 night  blurred   shades   escape  into our world
unseen   unwhispered  through halls   schools
homes  churches  cars   beds     living  rooms
  while we're  getting   dressed