I belong to just one hour – 6 in the morning until eternity; striking the white flag

out for no one. did I mention the mechanical intrusion; prolonged psychosis

without the business aspects? when I said had a fit, which turned out to be an

earthquake, was in fact an hour later and an earthquake nonetheless.

 

I belong to the morning until eternity, waiting for a decent exposure to lucidity.

they don’t come any more; just detach someone absent from some social

fraternity. I forgot to mention each turning page is a life time, which is a medieval

metaphor for the miracle of roses or the rose bowl parade and all that.

 

I belong to the morning until eternity; no ordinary beggar’s scrip world wide

distribution random pork sausage; no executed victim, or at least not executed

alone in an instant of eternity; an illusion in sweetened condensed milk tattooed

with a smile: "I am dead, never existed, just ritual smoke that vanished in the

ultimate alchemy; blue obscenities, myrrh and frankincense."

 

 

this is high mass; my high mass in artificial silence, an eternity with call waiting. I

take it from the bottom up, read backwards, get truths faster and faster; get arms

broken, legs shattered, left blind, pale against a carpet. no escape, no eternity.

 

 

I read and reread the present, the future and past; snap back to blue gray; no just

gray; need a quick adjective; an eternity of ending modifiers.

 

Copyright © kari edwards, 2004.