Sticky foam of saliva
exertion dries my lips to twigs,
kissing bitter tree leaves.
Tongue crept softy against glossed teeth
forming words in unknown languages.
Cross eyes cross referenced
against the bruised backdrop.
Fingernails trace circles into tree bark
Lines, angles, shapes.
Scrapings flutter the the dirt below,
discarded.
The pattern formed by this debris
more precise then my engravings.
Chaos paints us every picture
of the unintentional.
Grass tickles the feet of giants
a billion thoughtless blades arise in communion
an exhale.
the transference from one being to another.
This is all one organism.
!
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Better Than Ever!
Hi Mr B.
Your youth is by this piece more allayed by contemplative maturity than ever before. You ve always been a favourite of mine, particularly because of your eclectic subject material. You have an ability to write of topics and poeticise a plethora of subjects - through your dedication to experimentation and fearless pursuence of often intricate equations linking abtruse thoughts to personalized experience you have long since cast aside juvenality with improved language and some delightful juxtapositions.
"forming words in unknown languages."
Oh yes.
The basis of depth psychology and symbolist alchemy
Thinking backwards rewards us with strident steps forward.
Warmest regards
gG
gnosisonG
September 7
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