a return to the Solara.
LXVI
What we’re waiting for/together/is some kind of magical pyramid scheme that will help us all /transcend/ into wearing monocles and hiring associates to carry our gold on their backs at all times. Who could /blame/ us either? Though, I think monocles are hard to balance. Also, anyone /who is/ anyone has cryptocurrency. Hard to insert the gold into the computer, I imagine. I’m going to /live my life/ in-0-1 combinations. Affluence in a cloud. Affluence forever. Digital/ monocle//. Forget the rest of /you/.
LXVII
Once monoliths. We are like the hulking beasts of our past. Lunging to the present. Clawing to the future. Half of my desires are lost in the passing of one minute to the next. The other, a fierce sunlight, bearing down on the sundial. Merciless, an eye eternal. I could easily be lost to the reveries and delights of any given yesterday. Remain at attention. Stay a course. Survive.
It might /begin/ as a sliver of mercury floating its way towards salvation. It might /begin/ as the gentle lulling of a breeze against the window. It might /begin/ as the sun peaking out from the endless night.
It /becomes/ a storm. It /is/ the end. For now, let us /bask/ in its simplicity. /Before/ too long. /Before/ we must change course.
My evening was ruined/no fault of mine/or yours/or anything for that matter. Nothing to be done about it/really/when we get down to it. Outside the scope of our control/of our collected wisdom/and experience. What can be done about cosmic events? Certainly, I am no expert/neither are you/I suppose.
what, peace and /heaven/, when. where/each/collide. how, in song/we are all made purer/minor miracles of flesh/bone/salt. give in to this /endless/ wandering gaze. somewhere, like all lost objects/come to be /found/ again/with no sense of urgency. written for us, above our vision/in slivers of/the/ infinite.
I once dreamt/the afterlife/in a side room of my elementary school/illuminated as statues/seen only by lightning. God had jokes about hell and I missed /my family. Eternity was a long time/perhaps/definitely. Ten and dreaming of a heaven-in the building where I was /learning/forgetting/obscuring myself. I’ll never forget the lightning, the awareness there was a border I couldn’t cross. Then, in an instant /I arrived./
I didn’t want a prayer card. They gave it to me anyway. Nothing was saving this soul /or my own. Still, I was polite and took it. The words were imaginary. The /picture, some stock/ image /underwater/. I wondered where I really was. What had I done? I spoke the words. /Began to rise/and found myself home /finally/ or that’s what I’ll /tell myself/
You could. Try to take water in hand. Hold it. The source. Slipping. I’m being profound again /aren’t I/held, my hand/my breath. All of this, a patient game of waiting/who will blink, /first/ more sounds from far away. More light rays, in the flux of waves. My chest, this fire/this staring into/another void. Water slips from your hand/ again/
Don’t pull me into your ideal version/unhinged material and beauty. Aggressive and color stripped/swelling violins/selling me something I /never/ knew I never /wanted/. Taking me beneath the waves, this siren song/this web of impulse deregulation/this hug of the waves, dragging me deeper/beyond the surface. Never let me have my own ideas again.
You’ve decided for me/stuff that turns a dream to cinders/ashes. Decocted and reduced-left in the pot too long. Lost in the reverie-turning to a weathered paste. I’m heavy of foot again/loss on my features/stolen from me. Sing me this symphony, wind/let me set it and -not- forget it, /this time/
I think I /finally understand./ it all./each rendering of the impossible /begins with the/.end point in mind/scrolling through infinity—left to our own descent
into madness/and the multiplication tables turning [in on themselves]./ever the gyre/endless manifestations: in a sequence/
in a volume beyond
numeric representation. All of our hands are /raised/.
I won’t deteriorate any longer. In our conversations, you’ve shown me versions of myself. Reworded me for clarity and reformed my broken stabbings of sentences for something listening, somewhere, and we haven’t really been speaking. Even still, I am in debt to the caverns you have shown me, have left me to wander. Even as you, yourself, continue your own excavation, elsewhere.
and still persistent. very much in the throes of some kind of fever. pressing forward when the shakes set in. easing the symptoms. letting off the adrenaline rush. stuck in some sense of purpose’s flight patterns. thirst never quite quenched. again, a rush. again, the old sense of wonder. it never goes away, does it?
this will eek out of me/running away with the feeling/in spurts and shouts and shouted gulps of hot air/in the worst moment possible/letting it buoy itself behind air/fueled by shrill projection/less of a spectacle, but no one is looking away/break and crack and fall into the smaller, jagged pieces and distortions of the feeling consuming the whole of my attention/focus, viewer/let it seep its way from me to you/drink and/be full
Disappointed/denial, in retrospect/sunk in feathers/free and floating//glass cracking from the edges to the center/uneven/scratched to the point of concern//each sound, sharper than its predecessor/even this mockingbird’s lament/this robin’s aria/this crow and its pointed stare/focused and waiting/drenched in our disillusion/nothing is the way it was/promised//
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