being pulled out and letting go or on the heels of everything before the monkey signs the release
I was light - was a dawdling roof, an autumn darkness, a little later . . . a vale looking towards a remembered silence - lonely fragile mars, but distant, afraid of time as my mind slipped to another poised on a pedestal’s edge of sanity - readily aware of a limpid mirror, from floor to ceiling, a mirror at the bottom of the sea. out of the depths, through the thickness of satin a sculptured face I do not recognize, a signal in anguish; black bloodied and whole - directions in morse code modification, a bar code on the street, in a cell, a prisoner in infinity. those are the moments, when I no longer belong to myself, vanished in potholes of a serving tray, carrying cheap initiation pressed glass, a leitmotiv of cruel gestures that rips the meat from my teeth. I languish in a book or film or a weapons grade stockpile of something - touch a morsel of a distant something that wipes the refuge from my dishes. use a little bleach and water, add some golden trellis work, scents and warm fruit and give birth to elsewhere as the lithium rises.
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