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Thursday, July 2, 2015

one pass, swift blade part 3 of 3 7/2/15

Watching myself,
walking out of a blind spot
and seeing myself crossing into another.
I am still clutching
at a small piece of battered collective spirit.
I am ripping it open
with my teeth in crusty resentment,
now letting the rage pour in and out of me,
the debasing dribble down the front of me
as one pass, swift blade.
Denial as my tongue is forming
an unembraceable language,
defying the direct God experience as vapid
but somehow is also of everlasting light,
which is now shining down on my body.
Then by some befuddling means from beyond,
my spirit is sweating through to me,
giving me the ganglia tissues of love’s afterlife.
Here is this light with no rules,
although trauma is surefooted anchoring me
in reality’s dinghy,
yet surprisingly bobbing with positive laughter.
With tremor and surprise I am lifted in my gut
to an orphaning sick smile.
There is negative grin
on my disfigured childlike face that nobody loves,
yet basking in everlasting light,
bound and gagged by the hands of time
now somewhat creshendo applauding.
What is left of me is timeless churning
as I am now a slow melt somehow knowing.
A knowing that only breath touches heaven,
even if emotionally exhausted as if empty stone . . .   




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