Usufruct

Outer Signs

Found The Last Day

Found the last day, the last minute in the clock
Found the life in the fast forward final future
Asked why, asked for more
Nothing can be stated so clearly, nothing is such a bore
Hitherto the popular sign has been merge
Let alone stop, pulse, blow
Topology study,
hole in the heart, hole in everything.

Hole in the writing. A hole the size of years,
decades, lifetime left unspoken, unspeculated, unsaid.
Under utilized, undulating, unknown.
The answer to why is love, or fear.
The answer is always love, or fear.
Then again, maybe just fear.
Fear of the black, the "ness" attached to all words,
to everyone's face.
Attached to the black secret pools piloting the pin prick of their eyes.

Mysterious monsters of gesture.
Each face wearing its very personal agenda.
Walls in the maze of mankind. Walls of us.

Forever our greatest puzzle will be ourselves.
I'm no different. I'm not special.
But I'm pilot, I'll fly.

There should be logs for this cabin. Records and notes and descriptions and depositions darkly given in bright storerooms dripping with cliche and sparkling originality.

There be the confessions, left behind in the confessional. And I confess, I have committed no crimes. I'm a broken man without cause, or evidence. I've left no trace. Not even a drop of bearing blood.

Speaking of bears. They're coming for us all. The bears transmit conspiracy through the salmon. And when they're not in range of the secret rivers, they rely upon honey and messenger bees. This is why big agriculture seeks to destroy the wing-ed strip-ed ones. They know what the bears do, what the bears know they do.

They.

Cutting Metal

Perhaps  what I'm doing to myself is kin to "cutting". Dealing with severe emotional issues via self damage and pain. I don't pretend that this is unique or in any way makes me special.  I'm just trying to be honest. Am I cable of caring about anything in the long term? Especially myself?

Life is funny in that there is always a joke to be made. Always a way to poke fun, and spit on God's face.  I've rarely presented pride. At least I don't remember that being some egregious gross side of my character.

I know you think of me as strong. I fancy myself the same. I know this should be a simple matter, one left like a taxi waved on. But it has proven worse than that. Insidious. Unfathomable. A flea's bite,  writ large and continual. I know I was supposed to have figured this out by now. To have solved,  to have lead myself past this seemingly small sinker on the line. The elephant in the room is, I have not found the way out or past. The fact is I'm a thrall to it. And the hour only grows later, more painful, more obvious. I am sorry. This malfunction on my brain's perception  of soul will lead me early from you. I am to blame. It is my shame alone. And it is unfair,  irresistible,  irresponsible. If only I could take a stand. Make the correct choice. I can choose for others, but apparently  not myself.   What words will save me?

Long Side My Head

Long side my head
See the memories of your face
See the memory of my faces
Lanes of travel, disposition of anti darkness strategies,
Micro expressions bursting hide and seek between love and deceit

Gave it all away
Came to play
Knew you when you were young
We’ve never met the sun alone, dear Sol

You cannot be named, nor tamed, nor left without scarring
Not forgotten, not begotten, not bemused, abused, dissuaded, abated
Seen you far away, famous, beautiful, and just as useless in a fight

There was lightning in the storm last night
Arcing pole to pole
Separate bolts for separate people
Racing Capricorn to Cancer
Illuminating backyard secrets behind the Moon

May be, we won’t ever be what we wished
Falling down, it takes new hands to rise again
New fingers printing in new symbols
New phonemes, new dialects for new tribes worshipping new gods

Left behind so many fears
Yet find more villains gearing the grinders
The true mystery is the arena, what ground is this fighting for
Sound and color betray all as usual, for the first time

Finally, before it’s scrubbed from thought again:
I feel each day push me further away from the present
Each consuming more concentration compressing context consideration
Each another slice of young daring dreams whipping by
Like withering weathered posts long side my road

At speed, and picking up

 

Isometric

Iso           ionometer,

I so          chromatic chronometer.

Ice 

     sea

          else

                eye.

God         reason.

Belly-tax.

On               site

     actuation.

Us-eyes, 

              spin       push.

Encounter, 

Entropy.

bang (sigh) bang.

Shelves Of Unknown Objects

Shelves of unknown objects

A flashlight flickering, rolling across the floor

Arms and a torso turned to the wall, alone, absent yet alarmed

The middle of the tunnel is dark, for both the beginning and the end lay too far to declare any light

Spin four times around, and guess

What meaning exists in only the present

What world turns without a curve

What Sun

What Sol

Even the blind use bookmarks

Hold this place for me

Speak this old name

Marvel the sound of the fallen tree

Wonder that you knew

Wonder that you’ve flown a billion years

Through skies that begat skies

Great good comes from instinct

Instant decisions to flee to kill to defend to mar to forgive

The morning will surely raise us again

Until the last night

Until the final breath before all air disappears

I remember you

From a time when you were human

And I the simple beast

We spent days in that burning forest

Nights together fearing the embers

You left me by the cooling river

You said many things I could not understand

But I listened

If mind is made of mental associations

Do the connections of recall work only in one direction

Can not the memories cause the inspiration

Or are we so locked in the relationship of cause and effect

So held in our image of time and consequence

That we will never reverse birth

Nor bestir death

What is this longing

This need to preserve, protect, provision

Such animal fear

Such desperate ephemeral puffs of hope, courage, love

What game we must be to the creator

Who makes creators such as we

In the end the best beginnings become pairs

Like a couplet grouped unawares