of consciousness


peeling off the whiteness
of stream
of consciousness

washing it
with the sterile lore
of silence

preserving its restlessness
in the hermetic jar
of time

feeding it the shadow
of leaves

the crumbs of wind
that I find

warming it
with the thick songs
of essence

talking to it
with the vowels
of night and day

loving it
the shapeless ache
it leaves in my

Nihilistic Poetry

ultimate questions

and so
my unsystematic leisure
by better name
take a bottle of wine
to the dilettantish midnight
a solitude so drunk
it spirals like an epiphany
I am hugged by prophesy
consensually the two
hemispheres of my brain
tend to disagree
all I need
is an intermediary,
to borrow a medium
like your saliva
carries voice
place my cadmium red
on your activity
like a pollock
dripping from the sky
the question tonight
really was
why act
when it is still
action is deliverance
eh, prisoner?



Nihilistic Poetry