laughing drunk

I like to place my self

in a space before shadow or light occurs.

a space without sight perspective as such,

where I ponder the notion of distance

from a me to a thing that is there

and wonder how did that occur

and what keeps us as such,

claimed as separate. 

at least in my mind,

that is the declarative I start from.

so I sit with that premise

and wonder what made that so.

what made everything so referential? 

what made the naming of everything

include a separateness from,

as unsaid but part of the invocation

that I assume when naming as I do?

how did I get claimed as so lost

as to need a system of self-consciousness

pursuant to being found?

there is part of me that wonders about that.

a part that does not sense naming 

as my first or essential option.

I seem addicted to naming 

without forethought at all.

although I do deeply appreciate

when something comes 

to an awareness in me,

where the energetics precede 

the sensory obvious.

it's where we, of then, commingle,

as a harmonic of sorts,

a melody without experiential lyrics.

and so I residence

in space without light or dark as relevant.

where there is embodied swim,

currents banter without evidence made,

a sense of being, 

having no particulars arise.

it is the lead-in 

to every single second in passing.

it makes time seem like insistence 

and space like a remark to be made.

and if I had religion,

it would happen much later 

in each last second occurring. 

it feels like I am carving an ice sculpture,

in a desert, 

at high noon.

and the carving and melting

are dancing with each other 

into an evaporative state of presence.

and I am laughing, 

drunk on their nonexistence 

of invisible fumes as results . . .