Tim reads the instructions manual for death –
‘Live fully, first step.’
It is a chirping feather that reveals
a bird came to the window to proclaim –
‘Rain would visit; today a Sunday;
art acts free of instructiveness,
theories, politics, choice.
Tim turns and sleeps; believe me,
dream features a war psychedelic
between what he desires and where hate flips
a coin with two heads.
Night-lamp Is On
Every throb in my head
taps a prosign, connotes an SOS,
and on the sleep’s askew rhythm
an iceberg sinks an ocean
to the surface too real to forget.
Let’s spell elusiveness as translucence.
My darkness threads the night’s flesh.
In the fish exists everyone ever drowned
and it swims inside me.
Let the bait think itself a top predator.
I sleep not therefore I am never fully awake.
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)