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| Tani Bunchō, Ishiyama temple's histories (part 7 of 7), 1805, hanging scroll, colors on silk |
how gold rushes us into naming things…
we dreamt of our impurities washing over us/
panning for the immutable pieces of ourselves that could not be denied how are
you available to the Sun when the Moon has your charms all to yourself/ I sleep
walk during daylight, painting eyes upon my eyelids/ all the while dreaming of
her waxing Summer rouge and the crescent curl blade of her holding me tight to
the wane/ I made glasses/ wore them along the avenues and boulevards, seeking
out the sandwich boarded non-parabolicities going about a flat planar life…
have we always been embedding ourselves onto
three dimensions/ hooking tenacious claw driven perch holds at points where
reality branches out and becomes a more subjective than objective lens/ the
effective mass rate of expectancy for life surety is an assured dependency on
the faith we have in one’s self/ this is the prime law/ the only law/ the law
of spirit gaining matter/ there are no records, stone tablets or caves painted
otherwise/ this is the advance metrics of a soul/ seen as a smile telling the
eyes receiving the light of instantaneous regard, you care to bend the mirror
so that body and soul both can wear what fits a moment right/ this life or the
next/ each parcel of time is an infinity parsed into modified conductive
measures and quantum wells/ the valence-band dispersion curves means there is a
point of singularity in each of us that gathers our wants and needs/ our desire
for striving a perfection and the anomalies we bleed…
EJR ©
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