admit to having synesthesia
as if it is my handy number 2 lead.
roll suicide notes
as if there are filled with the weed of my destiny.
am aware of dimensions
that never have had any surface.
the proof of gravity, to me, is totally made
of cartoon character remarks.
the drums that play in my head,
bleed in pulses rather than make outrageous sound.
to know, for me, that there are
no such things as nonsense.
that truth has no capacity for containment
and experience is a personalized form of trademarking.
to find that the notion of nothing or anything
cannot be stretched beyond its limits.
have to admit, that now and then,
daily practice relies on spontaneous embellishment.
personally, experiencing indecency is a sense of loss.
weight against my back gives me a sense of comfort.
the heavens open whenever my eyes close.
will bite down real hard on things
as an expression of trust.
if I know things all too well,
it comes though me in the form of a sigh.
find that a sense of exactness
occasionally takes my breath away.
feel that honesty is expressed
when lips are passively motionless
and one’s tongue is prime for activity.
surprisingly can tell the current time
by the way all shadows
whisper amongst them selves.
all to often, keep to myself
by the same way all crowds tend to gather.
bother with details to appear as if innocent.
always ask people how much do they think I weigh
if I feel that they can’t really see me.
for the way that I sense,
makes strangeness seem impossible.
like the spaces between spoken words
for their sense of rhythm.
employ featurelessness for myself
as a way of getting things done.
strangely, you hold me closest
by being totally unaware of this.
easily gather myself within
where emotions feed on the collective.
estrangement, for me, is always
a knock at the front door.
happiest when wisdom has no audience.
please bare with me,
as intimacy is my way of seeing soul.
often wear moods as my sense of accessorizing.
many bothersomes come my way pre-sliced.
see gestural dignity as if swan-pantomime.
should be totally asleep to living
as a form of your absence from my life.
all of sound is what I sense
as what is breathing next to me.
intentionally always sleep
with my head to the north,
on my left side,
so that I am readied to greet the sunrise.
if you only understand me
then I feel all alone in a woods
where we are all growing old.
prayer was what I memorized
when I was a child of hope.
always come back to the feel of my body
as a language composed of incomplete sentences.
and when I say all of these things,
honestly feel
like I am spreading my wings . . .
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