spigot that drains as it spins -- substance-urn --

gyrating the cornucopaeia urges

flames without heat or smoke burn at odd angles

straightened to grow again crooked and turns

soliloquy of the rafters consume

extinguish the ice cold stare of oxygen

but what are you if I can still speak as sin

that you come to be present in my poem

arranging as though it was you all along

when nothing the came of you answered my longing

I for my hero and you for your Own.

Then Calafia scorned returns the scorching

as two Lovers once knew the meaning of Charm

had grown into Solitary Afterwards


The poem seemed like more than an Agents caliber of rhyme scheme. The NSA only
hires for certain types of communication so everything else has been neutralized for as
long as memory forgot it was so, and as to the purposes of all else, only command, only
metadata was used at all. Many were mistaken when for reasons of privacy, they
bantered on controversial comments in the comments section of a piece or a blog. THis
and that. Most females worried their nude self portratis should not be public information
but it seemed more than anything, a vain and futile attention grab. Who could be hurt
about being seen nude by unknown eyes in random search engines, and not consider
the delight it might give a true spectator or voyeur. At last everything has its limits and
that is not confined to mentalities. Again, there is another and unnamed but certain
portion of the human brain that will not be detected for eons. It is that area of the brain
that is of keen interest to me. I believe it is the gateway to the immortal fire within, a
place of mystery, partly lit through one lamp alone--it is the light of the Golden Challice
aka the ovens that produce the rarest minerals, such as emerald or ruby, are cooled
over into centuries for eventual treasure. That is as certain as the Scribes have testified
over many generations of bards which have been for the sake of the living, a record of
everything that has ever occurred before and after anything was ever used as a word.

Specialists who visit these caves are unaware that they are merely the metaphoric
sound of what truly lies beyond.

What does the Seer mean by Beyond? I asked the Magician.

He had been my companion throughout my journey through the time channels. Though
I knew this only as suddenly as when he appeared visible to me, he had emerged from
me. Or, I had willed him to carry me onward for what can a child do for herself without
her own magician?

The Magician showed no signs of answering and two Loons appeared. But they were
not Loons, they were Clowns.

Feeling more at ease among his own, Magician and Clown, arose to their feet. THey
applauded for applaudings sake as I returned to my loom.



)DREAM INVADING DAY
Waking up from a nap in 102 degrees isnt the luckiest thing that can happen. You
wake up annoyed, exhausted, and sweating. Something has passed through the head
space of the surrounding 100 mile circumference, like a Dream Bird who ascends and
with one soaring flight has seen the bay, its shores, its inlets and channels.

I feel dizzy and tired. Why was the morning so cold? And, shaking off the dream, I
realized two seasons had passed. For now it is winter.