Face-to-face, right in front, a rippled road now rests below a river sapphired,
coursing amidst a comfortable feng shui contained by a billion absolutes
and twinkles of twirling, tipsy metaphysics, animating like huffed steam,
descending on surging air pressures [transitional tabla waves]
The mysteries show us a desire to clutch, in the vein of resonating fireflies
                         undeniably, during the lull of sleep through ferns in the district,
                   like perfume mist taking an unhurried fall
Tearing tissues of speech ~ implode ~ under a spotlight lacking spectators
and so, the fruitful patchwork of the townships ~ explode ~ leaving a river, sapphired of yore

                                                         +

The eyes and arms of smoke stains swindled us with the look of silky clouds,
  tasteful—no, rank
And then I witnessed myself [a frozen silhouette], gazing at freight trains pounding miles away
chanting; breathing under weathered twilights (they whisper songs vanished from appeal)
They whipped waters for the foreseeable future, warning of fool’s gold and gold’s fool
And likewise, hair is something Big Brother deviously stirs into my tea,
                                                                 like wind chimes in autumn,
                                                                                            a feckless waltz,
                                                                                 except I never notice
                                                Obscurely, we are nevertheless the hairs’ breadth of totality

                                                          +

Realization comes from dilemmas that lye in a mind not in a product of sciolism
It only takes a thought to create a feeling; a belief to create a fear
And, when the psyche sanitizes itself, flowers of salvation’ll bloom inside cold veins,
where the honey-dew plaster of a lifted sun engrosses frozen silhouettes
melting, maneuvering... into the river, sapphired again
fermenting: forevermore, forever-lived in the mind, on the other side of chaos.
                                                                                                     .
                                                                                                  .
                                     and no person can pilfer blooms away from us