spiralling outward,into myself

form pattern motion time
these are the dimensions of matter


dont' call me lover

it's only sex. my lovers
are chilean stadiums
before the quake, my lovers
are uncleared body thetans my
lovers come and go in kalpas
the size of a nutshell, they overlap
like ripples of light in pool
dive, open my eyes.


you can call me landlady
a place for time to stop
and take its shoes off
leave  when the summer
comes along.


meanwhile my straight line
gets curved by a gravity well.
every star's a settling point
a transformable hole/black to white.

don't worry if it makes no sense.
worry if it does. hey wait.
don't worry at all. worry's a contrail
in a windy stratosphere. it's a rhyme
looking for a reason.






*











so i'm remembering the elephant's comment
on the hills of altamira. i'm focusing
the weed on a blasted surface , then pulling in
so the microscope cant' find the tip
of my fingers.  the observable universe
is threaded into the dark matter, neurons
and ganglia sprites mimic memes --
cascade cutouts, spraypainted schoolbus yellow
tagged with a quazar.






















*













write more, we'll make less
time between the strokes
or we'll ask for a  stroke of its hand
to sweep over the eyes peering
 like a flock of lakes into the mirror
that isn't there.