[s e d u c t a p e]

Silently the girdle
Slips, past the curve
Of fleshy wisps

That present and press
Against invisible stresses—straps
Unseen, but quite

Well felt—the blanket
Softer than silk, listless,
Stretches against

The skin—nothing
Escapes the tired grip
Of a mind tossing

Shadows against the screen,
Then, letting them slip and drip
And drip

So: candles conceive only
Absurd designs—whether
Lit one end or nine


carnival spirit
I won't be stayed

I crack upon
the smack of dawn

with smatterings of mist
in shapes long-drawn, of

days long gone—

designed for the sudden
summary of sunset

that rests its threat
of spontaneous demise

amidst the crook, the
crevice, the aurum crest

of yon horizon's breast

that heaves with the
spirit of possibility—

I am something solar and
increasingly grey

I am the light of day


I am nothing
If not
Something unnecessary

I am nothing
If not
Something essential

I am
Something, if
Nothing else

[within/without, pt.2]

Make what ideas rest
Within the mind

Shine upon the second,
Next—a second lost,

A minute invested in

The manufacture of

Prods the mycelial
Mechanics of

The meditative kind,
Even when we tend

To be unkind

Show thread

[within/without, pt.1]

Training focus—
The meditation that

Mediation imbues

The mind—lost in a second
As sand slips particle

By particle—a rush
As currency gripped

Is let slip

And rains upon
Intentions borne

By plight of what
Incites the mind

To produce intention

First—nothing but
The rubber of

Cognition bears fruit
Amongst the stars

That shine as ideals—


Summary makes
for quick solace

When sense is twisted
Out into space—

Struggle is pasted
Across the make

Of cosmic face

And what matters
Is pressed

In question against
Curiosity’s quest

To taste the universe


Haphazard complacency
Paints regret with
Nothing kind, while

Impatience for the
Tension building
Breaks into rhythmic

Intervals of sound,
Squeezing through the
Technosapient membrane—

The soul, the heart
The earful of

That bears the
Careful onslaught
Of carbonated melody

Through the desktop
Speakers singing centuries
Into the night

Liberty dressed in
casual best


strides upon the

Pride resides in
knowing that,


Freedom paints the
naked youth,

Liberty weaves
an ageless truth—

As feeds

the growing needs of
Maturity—we seeds

of Autonomy's brood

Set adrift
Like leaves upon

The glassy sheen
Of springs

Embracing twists whilst
Sprinting softly—‘twixt

The dashing landscapes
Of green—

The merry stream
Of consciousness bubbles

And bears—skipping
Swiftly, and with

Ease—the soft caress of
Sunlight, glistening,

Upon its face, its
Wander and weave


The sun-dressed stream of consciousness,
of wind-swept summers, dreams.

Appreciation dwells in
Shallow corners

Donning shadows so
As not to be seen—

As not to be seen
As should be possible

Were appreciation not one
For making a scene


~and so, the stream of consciousness
(where appreciation, attention, seeks)

nothing to see here 

I wasn’t kidding

What are we but instances of reality seeking federation.

a keeper by the gate
will wait—my entry for
to negate

my claim

I stake, and make my way
back from whence I
narrow came, whilst

doing so

it’s clear to see—
the keeper shares
my very face

and shares

with me, implausibly,
the beating of my empty
heart, and yet—

we stand apart

(version 2)

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