A Matter of Life and Death

(collaboration of The Society of Brain Dead Amputees)


Spiraling, like a serpent, to the center
Pass through the portal or vortex,
To the other side

The other side of things,
The other side where serpentine matrices
Uplift the eyes of one who’s learned to see. . .

Are eyes in to mend fabric
Or to tear open dreams like popping bubbles
Atop the pond where you drew therein?

Hyperbole dissolves the ineluctable
drivel, driven to madness
by the decider

The fabric of time was woven of Thought,
Holes eaten holy, wholly, by moths;
Knowledge makes the illusion of life transparent—

What is this that he spaketh?
The “ineluctant” is really the “ineluctable”--
Thus spake the master of the word,
Henceforth the oozing of clear essences!

Restart do assimilate respond disseminate
All the way words as “incomprehensible”
As substratum substance,

And she asked him do you want to
emote?
To which he answered no!
I want to generate.

Creative impulses move past human words,
Forming a language of energy & light,
Illuminating worlds within—

Within the pulp of the breast
The voluptuous shapes and
Creative eruptions into the sensible void--
What is left is form, pure and simple. . .

Crystallized states of metamorphousness
do we really care if our boat
tips too far over the edge, off…

Peeking through the clouds into
a fog that beckons death and promises life
I stand at the crossroads where
the grace of the merciful one
replenishes a lost world.

Call down the mists from above --
Be prepared to pay the ferryman, at the river’s edge--
The passage to the land of the dead
Is not for the faint of heart!

If you only knew -- the nights, the
Inscrutable nights aboard the ship of death
Agonizing and crying out loud for souls
Who might hear the multitudinous tortures
of the hidden -- the ones who have gone
into their repose --

THE END always waits, foretelling
The truth of death.