matter is mining solitude, seeping scene seen...

matter is mining solitude, seeping scene seen
( red shift roygbiv )

when I am 
getting drunk, 
high or otherwise 
gambling my soul 
with some artful trick   
or other escape 
I have learned 
along the way...

I am stealing stories 
to amuse myself with 
into my old age
stealthily storing them 
in poems...

code odd memory 

cloud, server 

client, ceramics class 

at a Methodist church 

late seventies 

key punch 

and judy 

is disguise...

outside America sleeps 
by the window 
hoping humanity's undeniable 
cognitive-mass ignorance 
is not a permanent 
Sargasso sea long kelp 
swallowing light 
particle and wave 
still and quiet 
the way Morpheus 
hunts for seeds...

woe is they that attempt 
to shape a day in an image 
outside of nature, chaos 
and the wrought 
molecular reach of life 

these kinks, 
barrows and glides 
are the seasons 
of reasons 
we try 
and keep track 
of ourselves with...

and we are 
not just time collectors
but we want to know 
why and how often
our bones 
seek souls 
who want cages 
and wings 
archetypes 
and things...

we wonder 
do we still 
seek freedom
these days 
maybe, mostly 
with things...

sometimes. we adhere 
rituals and prompts 
nanosecond fleeting things 
awareness, clarity
almost ghosts-at-birth-things 
things, we can say 
were ours, once 
in an exhale 
pressing a disappear 
into a background 
and the rain...

EJR ©