Born
as
limb
annexed
to
p r o c e s s
my life
a finger
fiddling with
crystals of perception
the experience
alone
a purposeless
flight
truth… ?
simple,
the unwritten
manifesto
of the sky
death comes
I am one more wave crashing
swelling and then
absorbed back
into
formless
immanence
disappearing once more
into fire.
With a weightless sky in my eye
I drown in arabesque
can I blame the world
for appearing to be so real?
while walking in silence
I observed the solidity
the light calmly on the mundane;
something unfolding I called it wholeness
occult like a spirit
clever and persistent
behind the visible path that I take,
locality and image
are still my playthings
and yet something calls
like a spell to jump
into the final
unknown.
I used to suffer
you see
I see a huge ball of beauty
rolling down
the corridor of experience
amazed, initially b/c there is a ball
but later simply b/c it is beautiful!
and this ball keeps rolling
beautifully, sometimes impelling me to say
it’s all dream… it’s all dream!
and yet I used to suffer
because I was sure
the end would come
this uncanny ball would
simply vanish once experience
removes the surface for it to glide
and I was so damn sure it would be over
I suffered mortally
imagining all this thrusting beauty
wasted in an absurd instant of death
oh yes
I used to suffer
but now that suffering is gone
and I keep the reasons why
to myself.
The range
already a sound
that becomes from touch
a savory dream
by a word
wholeness
light originates
something sprouting
of totality
meaning
non-mentioning
free music
in the hair
by your laugh
by formula
of language
leaning on
image
birth
is an invention
of essence
the impulse
innate of
sea of perception
And
for every word
a dream
every vision
a cumulous joy
the dream
summoning vastness
the world
wide asleep.
A grain of salt
Or was it a vast
Ocean before me,
I had a shred of detail
Miserably short of a
Comprehensive theory;
An instance there was,
And experience
The gate
What I ask of you
is to invent a reason
something of a shade
like a morsel of labyrinth,
to shed a tear
like a long branch of truth,
a solitude that has the figure
of a stranger followed by smoke,
something that I need is so elemental
like the way you tear away the wings
faithless in the heights,
what I ask is for you to turn around
bright, tangible and ancient
peeling naked our sense,
it is not hope that I seek
but in infallible squalor
to touch your name.
I have,
somber,
taken the
age
by its feathers
flapping heedlessly
towards
the wasteful
the glass
is clear
with signs
of sorrow;
how to blame
the cathedral
for having
gold angels
in its marble
cross
for
the touch
is not random
but decoding
the material
language,
translating it
to pure
essence
I have,
somberly,
taken the
task
of discovering
the fatal
mistake
of our
lives.
The heroes, or the emission.
happiness and earthquake
the sound soars
blindly behind curtains
of my perception
there are pieces
that I have forgotten
about myself
like the blackened scar
of shell beneath a foot
in morbid beach
reality?
a beauty.
insufficient
recently creating
the drug that fixes me
there have been lauds
highly articulate sources
floundering as brush stroke
in broken verses
to age!
furthermore
alive heavy with struggle
and purely irresolute.
careless evenings
youth, dream, iron
with a fossilized joy in my face
I put on the chains
to await bitter destiny
it is freedom
far beyond art
it is an activity with no ideal
that I pretend to know
one day the hand that writes
transforms into rock
rock turns into sand
and that sand prolapses
into nothing
and a silent
gaze
is vestige
of vacuous past
in that haste
of a gamble
I fooled around with desire
noise and love,
reckless towards
the assemblage
of oblivion
Beyond Language 
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