poem (composed on a jp5s tablet while listening to acid mother's temple)

poetry reading - audio & text

All of humanity’s problems stem from our inability to sit quietly in a room alone. —Pascal

ex nihilo: black magic satori::

[ ]

someone perhaps in the midst / of a dark reverie or psychedelic

mind-mind / with the 4^th dimension told him / sleep’s a state of being

between life & death / after which he was never the same always

searching wondering unsure / if he were real with that look / of tired

vigilance men mirror inside cages / the universe in its sublime /

emptiness all that cannot be spoken / of or written down so

he tumbled out of that prison only to land / in another & so on /

until resigning himself to a dream one mundane / in every aspect

of being / a poet what else can a prisoner / aspire to with a skull

free of clouds & lightning both boots grounded in / concrete as time

- - -

ex cathedra:: the heights of insomnia:

[ ]

billows past turning him \ to dust what a monumental \ task just

to live let alone die every day \ another x carved into \ the wall

linking the calendar’s fence of forsaken moments & secrets \

which fissure his body until nothing \ but light remains because

the mind \ of an ordinary man & a sage are the same \ he says

as the front gate grinds \ open like a cell stratocasting him back

into the 3^rd dimension \ a realm where nobody questions the source \

of his laughter or figures him \ for an escapee from some loony bin

who’s too far \ gone beyond & now he’s on \ the metro north heading

south to the city that for better or worse \ never sleeps yet always dreams