Tag: continuum

Communion

Main Content

“Stop! You must curtail your bizarre behavior,”
says the man with the stick,
“You really must,” he says
adjusting his hat.

But, he’s not talking to me,
he’s talking to the creature we become—
in the stretch back to the first realm.

“Adjust behavior and commiserate elsewhere,”
says the fat man
“You really must,” he says
poking the creature’s chest.

The creature, call us Communion,
howls indignant and turns back to the wall—
string dangling from slippery hands.

“Non-compliance is unacceptable,”
shouts the rigid man,
“Unacceptable and you must stop,” he shouts
and we pay em no mind we pay em no mind.

We are disconnected from that world,
there is only blood here and glue and string—
this creation nothing else.

Endnotes

This poem was released as a podcast on June 7, 2014.

Download

And now a YouTube Video

There’s a word for it

There’s a word for it,
that thing we’ve danced around all night, but never got to.
Those cross sections of the multidimensional, which I call continuum strands in my Poemcraft.

Poemspace is a dimensional shift which can occur in one of two ways: 1) naturally or 2) summoned by the dark arts of the seasoned wizard.

In cause the 1st you learn how to sense poems, how to hone in on them, and how to let them happen.

In cause the second you meditate, you empty, you transcend. The stained glass window shatters in a blaze of golden light, oh glory!

And praise and bless!

Buddhists have a word for it, the unity that welds whiplash tails of continuum in a single moment as he approaches enlightenment, awakening.

Poems are mini-awakenings!

In poemspace an infinite number of hungry mouths roar out of their egg sacs. They lunge and snap in infinite hunger. There is no hope no escape, all you can do is stay still and study the disfigured mouths. Look close behind those ragged teeth and torn lips and there are tiny Buddhas with semaphore flags. Each thousand mouths is a letter, each thousand thousand a lesson in dread.

In poemspace infinite lilies bloom infinite seeds of compassion. It’s true, there is one who awakened but chose to stay behind to empathize with tortured souls.

In poemspace now shifts to craft. That is… a tilt of the head and swirls of golden orbs flash in and out of here/now. Sometimes they leave streamers. Those streamers are the connections between dimensions, the strands of continuum—the things you go after.

A Blog (a first)(an exclamation mark)

I am have become emergent in no small part due to this ally. Not to imply catalyst, but fire. Another connection flares, instantly welded as tangles of continuum bang and bump in the drift. There, in that maelstrom, is born Poemcraft.

But latter. I’ll tell you all about it, later. For now up under About is my Manifesto in Progress.